


Nine-Tenths of the Law

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: The Enhancile War [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Misunderstandings, Rescue, Sex, asgardian tech is basically magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Nick Fury has offered asylum and a temporary home to Tony and Bucky as the galaxy debates and fights over the question of enhancile rights. Of course, nothing is free -- as well-known faces of the enhancile cause, they're more or less obligated to do whatever they can to keep the movement afloat.When it becomes clear that what the movement needs is a big, showy wedding, they reluctantly agree. But Bucky isn't sure whether Tony's reluctance is because of the spectacle -- or because ofhim.





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky’s daily habit of spending a few moments standing at the enormous bay window of their apartments on the smaller moon of the Triskelion chain, Lighthouse, and admiring the view of the planet below, was put off by the discovery of an empty bed and a distinct lack of warm body anywhere in the apartment.

For the third -- or was it fourth? -- time that week, Tony had not come up to bed after assuring his boyfriend that he was just going to work a few more hours.

Bucky sighed and started pulling on his clothes, ignoring the planetrise below. The glitter from the planet’s abundant industry made it like a second sun in the sky, admittedly one that was a riot of color instead of the K-class solar body that shed a brilliant orange across the skies. A little cool for a life-sustaining planet, the Triskelion chain was mostly contained inside various greenhouse domes that kept the temperature warm enough for humans, allowed harvesting of the solar radiation for growing plant life. Triskelion had an active trade network for foodstuffs, as even its vast farming towers couldn’t sustain the entire population for long.

Susceptible to embargo or blockade, the Triskelion chain was primarily a mining and engineering planet. Huge space drydocks littered the near-planet orbits, and grav-elevators moved supplies easily from planet to moon and moon to man-made rings.

“JARVIS, what’s my schedule?” Bucky asked the AI, searching for his magboots. The gravity of Lighthouse was about half earth-normal and it was just easier for him to wear the boots that kept him pinned to the floor. Most of the domes kept up an artificial gravity, but he was headed into the ‘shop district, where the lighter than usual gravity was the norm, in order to better move supplies and cargo around. He sometimes forgot to compensate for the lighter gravity, and alongside his greater than baseline strength, it had led to some awkward situations in which he found himself suddenly in the rafters.

“You have one meeting with Director Fury, shift three. The pirate ship called _Avenger_ is scheduled to dock at Tahiti station, shift five at the earliest. Later, depending on final event surf. The rest of your schedule is clear, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, J,” Bucky said. He ran a brush through his hair. “He still down at the workshop?”

“Of course.”

“Has he eaten recently?”

“Inquiry: does a smoothie made from frozen fruit, milk, coffee, and motor oil count as food?”

“He still letting DUM-E play with the blender?”

“Mr. Stark gets preoccupied. It’s a hazard.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Bucky said with a sigh. He trudged into the kitchen and punched a few buttons on the reconstitution oven, heating up two breakfast packs. Filled a thermos with coffee and grabbed a mug for himself. “I need a Lift, please, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.”

JARVIS knew where he was going; Bucky didn’t even have to tell the Lift’s autodriver. He flopped into the seat and stared out the window. It didn’t take particularly long to get to the workshop and laboratory district; Tony could have come home to sleep. Assuming he’d slept on the narrow cot in the ‘shop and not just worked the night through. Either was possible.

There was a time when the ‘shop district had been an impenetrable maze, but Bucky had the path down pretty well, having trudged it rather frequently in the last two months. It was nice of Director Fury to give them a home and an allowance while Tony’s vast wealth was still tied up in the courts. Of course, Fury had taken that allowance in trade, putting more and more projects on Tony’s plate. There was a list of engineering miracles as long as Bucky’s arm that Fury wanted Tony to oversee, fix, get back on track, or just plain _invent_.

But Bucky was pretty sure it was something else entirely that had occupied his boyfriend’s attention recently.

He kicked the door to Tony’s lab a few times, the magboots ringing out against the metal.

It took a few moments, and then the door slid open to reveal DUM-E, a half-full blender in his clawed arm.

From deeper in the shop, Tony’s voice called out, “No, DUM-E, that’s not for people, that’s-- Oh, hey, babe!” He emerged from the shadows, smeared with grease and sweat, welding goggles shoved up into his hair, wiping his hands on a rag. There were shadows under his eyes, but he smiled at Bucky. “I thought you went to bed already!”

“I did,” Bucky said. “It’s halfway through second shift already.” He waved the bag of reconned breakfast, some sort of egg sandwich and a vat-pork sausage, at Tony.

Tony’s eyes widened. “Really? Already? I could’ve sworn I just--” He turned to look at a screen, quick eyes seeking out the displayed time. “Huh. Another all-nighter, I guess.” He wrested the blender from DUM-E and set it aside. “You brought breakfast? That was nice of you; thanks, honey.”

“I’ve got a meeting with Fury in a few hours,” Bucky said. “I thought you were plannin’ on coming home.” He peered at Tony, checking his neck carefully, trying to see under the grime of oil and sweat. If he’d been pushing the Extremis too hard, it would get behind on healing the heavy metal poisoning that Tony lived with constantly. “You know you gotta sleep sometimes, right? An’ eat? Extremis don’t run on air.” He put the coffee down on a worktable and pushed a bunch of solid-light engineering schematics out of the way.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony sighed. “But until it starts running out of fuel, I don’t _feel_ tired or hungry,” he said. “I did _plan_ on coming home, I swear. I just... didn’t notice the time slipping by.” He came closer, reaching up to drop a light kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky licked his thumb and wiped a smudge of grease off Tony’s throat, then sighed. The dark line from the palladium core was just reaching over his collarbone, like high-tech gangrene. “Sit down an’ eat somethin’,” Bucky said, and it was more like pleading than an order. “An’ then come home for a few hours. I’ll wake you after my stupid meeting with Fury, if you want. Jus’... a little rest? A few hours?”

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, but he was watching the way Bucky’s eyes kept returning to his neck and that damning evidence of the poison in his body. “Yeah, all right,” he agreed, reaching up to cover the spot with his hand. “Breakfast and a nap, I guess I can spare time for.”

Bucky peeled the bag away from food, crumpled the paper up and threw it for DUM-E to catch. The ‘bot missed by a meter, at least, but he was then occupied with trying to retrieve the “ball” from under one of the fabricating units. “What are you workin’ on, doll?” Bucky asked. He leaned against the work table, propping one foot up on the rung of the stool. “You an’ Fury both act like Hydra’s gonna come after the whole damn galaxy next week and you, personally, _you_ , are the only one what can stop ‘em.”

“Battle armor,” Tony said. He picked up the sandwich and took a huge bite. When he’d chewed and swallowed, he said, “Hey, wanna see something I just got working?” Without waiting for Bucky’s response, he held out his right hand. From the far side of the shop, there was a rattle, and then a clang, and a bright red, misshapen missile was hurtling toward them.

Bucky’s jaw dropped open, letting a well masticated piece of toast fall out onto the floor. His enhanced brain could track the object, its tractory, and likely splatter radius, but he was in exactly the wrong position to do anything about it, except watch as--

Tony caught the thing in his outstretched hand. No, not _caught_. It had molded around his hand like a glove. A _gauntlet_ , bright metal and the glow of one of Tony’s miniature repulsors set in the palm. He turned to look at Bucky, beaming proudly. “It’ll come to me from-- Oh, hey, are you okay there?”

“No,” Bucky said, although quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what the problem was. On the one hand, his metal one, he’d been prepared for a half second to be doing emergency surgery on the floor of Tony’s workshop. On the other hand, that was also the coolest gorram thing he’d ever seen, and the blood that wasn’t rushing around in his head and making him dizzy, was pooling in his groin and giving him a confused, but insistent, stiffie. Sheer terror combined with a heat wave of lust made his heart jolt in his chest, his blood pound through his veins, and Bucky didn’t know if he was coming or going. “Frell me dead.”

Tony looked him over with a raised eyebrow and a sudden smirk, as if he could hear the thoughts ricocheting around in Bucky’s head. “Yeah? Pretty awesome, huh?”

“I literally cannot tell if I’mma ‘bout to cream my denims or drop over dead from a heart attack,” Bucky told him, not looking away from the sleek red armor. Of course, most of his relationship with Tony had been made up of such moments. Having Tony as a lover was like piloting through an asteroid belt. At light speed. With a bad map. It was going to be a miracle if Bucky made it through the whole thing intact, but at the same time he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Tony grinned. “Next time I’ll give you a little more warning so we fall a little more solidly on the enjoyable side of that line, then.” He looked Bucky over again, almost proprietary. “Going to come home with me for that nap?”

“You should probably sleep at least a whole shift,” Bucky said. He thought about that for another minute, then took the rest of the thermos away, ignoring Tony’s pout. “I’ll leave this here. You come home. We can spend a bit of time, before I gotta go see what bug Fury’s got in his bonnet today, an’ then I’ll wake you up when I get back?” He hesitated, then added, “ _Avenger’s_ gonna be in port tonight.”

Tony made a face. “Think the Captain’ll want to have me thrown in jail for being a Stark, still?”

“Might be overwhelmed with wantin’ to go a few rounds with me f’r stealing his shuttle an’ then leavin’ it behind on Knowhere,” Bucky replied. Because he’d gotten used to his boyfriend and Tony’s puttering ways, he led them out of the ‘shop before Tony could get distracted by his tools and toys again. “If he gets too loud, I’ll distract him by mentioning that Agent Carter pretty much adopted you as an honorary nephew. That oughta confuse him enough to let us get a word in edgewise.”

He got Tony into the Lift without incident and then it was only a few turns down the corridor to put the man to bed, and lay on him if he had to, to get Tony to _rest_ for a while.  

Tony rambled the whole time, about his work for Fury, about some little hiccup in the battle armor’s design, about an upgrade he’d been planning to give JARVIS. Little things, nothing that particularly required an answer. But even in the short trip, by the time they were back home, Tony was leaning against Bucky’s side, his words coming out in more of a mumble than anything coherent.

“There we go, darlin’,” Bucky said, guiding Tony into the apartment and back toward the bed. “JARVIS, dim the windows, please.” He helped Tony with his clothes like he was a sleepy toddler, which Bucky should not find adorable, because it was a sign of Tony’s terrible behavior. Bucky’d known a few enhanciles like Tony; they’d hurt themselves badly before they’d learned how to take care of themselves. Even the accelerated healing could only do so much. “In you go.”

Even as sleepy as he obviously was, Tony clung to Bucky’s shirt and wrist. “Gonna come with me, right?” he said, trying for a seductive purr but hitting closer to the mark of needy child.

“For a bit, baby,” Bucky promised him. “An’ hopefully I’ll be back before you wake up. Love you.” He tumbled Tony into their bed and tucked himself around the man’s long limbs, nuzzling at his throat. He pulled the blanket over them, drawing Tony as close as breath, petting his hair soothingly. “Go on, sleep now. I’ll be right here.”

Tony sighed, put-upon, but obviously was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He let them fall shut after only a moment, and it wasn’t much longer after that when his breathing evened out into the slow, shallow breaths of sleep. His limbs relaxed even further and he curled into Bucky’s warmth.

Bucky tried not to read anything into it. Tony was obviously working himself into exhaustion, but it was getting hard not to feel… ignored. He kissed Tony’s hair and let himself drift off. He still had to get up in a few hours, but he let himself relax and enjoy the moment, Tony snuggled against him like a kitten.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tony drifted, warm and buoyed by dreams. Time passed, or maybe it didn’t. He was in no hurry to wake any further and succumb to the demands of life. He’d rather just stay in bed, snuggled up against...

The distinct lack of snuggling pulled him out of his drifting. Where was Bucky?

Meeting with Fury, Tony’s memory reminded him. Tony groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. Maybe he’d just sleep until Bucky got back, then.

Except now that he’d almost woken, he was aware of an unpleasant pinging sound. The comm alert. Someone wanted to talk to him.

Tony groaned. What now? He pulled the blanket down just enough to uncover his face. “What?” he demanded.

“Sir, Sub-Director Hill is waiting your response,” JARVIS informed him, a touch crisply.

Tony whimpered -- he’d rather deal with Fury, honestly -- and sat up, scrubbing his hand through his hair. He’d had almost a whole shift of sleep; it would have to do. “Put her through.”

Maria Hill was a practical-looking woman, fiercely militant, with a haircut obviously designed with sharp, no-nonsense buns in mind. She wore her civilian clothing as if it was a uniform, and her shoulders were pulled back so tight Tony wondered how she could even breathe. She didn’t even blink at Tony’s under-dressed and sleep-rumpled appearance, although there was something in the way her jaw moved that suggested she was disappointed in him. “Mr. Stark,” she said. “If I might have a moment of your time?”

“I’m awake now,” Tony muttered. “Might as well.” He lifted his chin and his voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Allow me to brief you on the tactical situation, Mr. Stark,” she said. “As you may know, Triskelion does not farm enough crops to supply our population. Instead, we rely on trade to keep food and water flowing. With recent upheavals throughout the galaxy, we’ve lost more than one trade partner.” She said this in such a way that, even though none of this was Tony’s fault, at all, she might as well have accused his pursuit of legal, human rights, as a declaration that he was intending to starve the people of Triskelion. Or maybe he was just overreacting. Hill had a tendency to garner that reaction from him.

“We’re currently in negotiations to open supply lines with Sakaar. They’ve recently experienced a change in regime, and are willing to work with us…”

“But? I’m sensing a ‘but’ here, Ms. Hill, and it’s not mine.”

“Sakaar’s previous government treated their enhanced population as slave-property, and thus, they rebelled. They are quite eager to establish a place for themselves in the galaxy, and of course, they wish ships and weapons to protect themselves, but they doubt our sincerity,” Hill continued. “They want proof positive that we intend to return all rights to the enhancile population, with all the trappings and responsibilities that come with citizenship. As you know, we don’t have a very large population of enhanciles on Triskelion; most of the ones here are native of other planets, or are considered renegades from various corporations and planetary sponsors.”

She took a deep breath. “It would serve as both a morale boost for enhanciles, and a sign of our dedication to the cause if you and your partner were to become citizens of Triskelion. And… a public ceremony that grants you full rights would not be out of order. Most specifically --” Her expression twisted a little, as if she was exasperated. “-- a wedding.”  

Tony blinked, replayed that in his head. “You... want us to get married to further the cause,” he summarized.

“Yes,” she said. “With all the ridiculous trappings that we can afford. A huge, public spectacle. As you know, the rights of family, spouse, and offspring were among the first removed from the enhancile population, and throughout many of the corporations, separating attached enhanciles was standard practice, along with forced sterilizations.”

“Right, yeah, I know,” Tony said. “I just...” He pulled a face. “Let me talk to Bucky about it. I don’t know if he’s ever even _thought_ about it.”

“Don’t take too long,” Hill cautioned. “If we have to institute food rationing, support for your cause will go down accordingly. As the face of the movement, it will be better if it’s you.”

“I get it,” Tony grumbled. He’d hoped, if they ever got married, it would be for themselves alone. So much for that fantasy. “I’ll talk to him as soon as he’s done with his meeting and call you back.”

Hill nodded crisply and then disconnected the call, leaving Tony staring at the swirling screen-art.  

Married. Would Bucky even agree? They’d only been together for a few standard months -- granted, those months had tested their commitment hard, but still. Maybe Bucky didn’t believe in marriage; a lot of enhanciles didn’t. Thought it was a useless, archaic institution that served primarily as a display of power and wealth. Some of that thinking was undoubtedly sour grapes, but it didn’t render the arguments less valid.

If Bucky said no, were they single-handedly pushing the Triskelion chain toward famine?

Almost worse: what if Bucky said _yes?_ Was Tony prepared to be bound to Bucky forever? He thought so, but what if he was wrong? An ostentatious public wedding like the one Hill had mentioned couldn’t be idly overturned with a quiet divorce decree if things didn’t work out. Not until at least the movement had gained its objective.

And why was he thinking of endings, anyway? He _loved_ Bucky. He loved living with Bucky, loved their life together. But he couldn’t help but feel like acknowledging their love with the entire galaxy to witness would put a lot of pressure on the bond. Were they ready for that?

Was anyone?

By the time Bucky came back, about half a shift later, Tony wasn’t sure if he was anxious to get the conversation over with, or relieved that it could finally frelling _happen_. He’d been what-iffing and catastrophizing and rehearsing the entire conversation on repeat since Hill disconnected the call.

It did not help at all that the first thing Bucky did when entering the small apartment was pushed into the kitchen, punched up an order for a double-strength Asgardian whiskey and drained the whole thing in a long swallow before turning to see Tony standing in the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony said. “Rough meeting?” Shit, what if this wasn’t the right time?

“I almost wish Hydra would just attack us,” Bucky said. “For someone who don’t trust a gorram word I say, Fury acts like every little frelling detail about Hydra’s daily workings will somehow reveal a weakness. Either that, or he’s waitin’ for somethin’ to happen so he can see if I’m right or wrong. Oh, and th’ Wakandan ambassador got into an argument with th’ delegation from Intelligensia Weapons, an’ I ended up in the middle of it. Accident, but I mighta put my hand on one of the Dora Milaje, so there’s a formal apology going out. I jus’ didn’t want her to take Fury’s head off right there, I think that woulda been a bigger incident.”

“Yikes,” Tony sympathized. “So, uh. This may not be the best timing, but I promised I’d get an answer soon, so...” He spread his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. “I had a call from Hill while you were gone. Fury tell you they’re negotiating with Sakaar for tradestuff?”

Bucky nodded. He considered his empty glass for a long moment, then refilled it. “Politics an’ Public Relations, dren. I ain’t got a head for this at all. I’m a _soldier_.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wish I could spare you from more of it,” Tony said. “But Hill hit me up for another public relations thing. The Sakaarians want to see proof that Triskelion is serious about enhancile rights. Specifically, they’d like to see a wedding.” He grimaced. It wasn’t the proposal he’d have wanted to offer. “There’s a lot riding on it being sooner rather than later.”

“Uh…” Bucky said, mouth dropping open for a moment. He inhaled, shut his jaw with a snap. Opened his mouth again to say something and decided to knock back his drink instead. Fortified with enough alcohol by that point to sedate an old-Earth rhinoceros, he finally managed a, “You mean… us?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Tony said. “Faces of the resistance, and all, Hill figures it’d be symbolic and...” He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. This was the most awful proposal Tony had ever heard of, and there wasn’t a frelling lot he could do about it. “Please?”

Bucky sat his glass down very carefully, and Tony wasn’t sure if the tremble in Bucky’s fingers was nerves or anger or an effect of the alcohol or something else entirely. “You…” Bucky wet his lips with his tongue. “So, this’s got nothin’ to actually do with _us_ , it’s just a… flag to wave.” His mouth twitched and he added, “Sakaar’s a crossroad world. Lotta trade goes in and out of there. They could make things hard on Triskelion if they don’t feel like they’re bein’ taken seriously.”  

“So Hill was at pains to remind me,” Tony sighed. “Honey, if you really don’t want to, we’ll find someone else. There’s bound to be another couple on Triskelion who’d jump at the chance. The whole notion took me by surprise, too.”

“Doesn’t sound like this is much a matter of _want_ at all,” Bucky said. “Needs must, an’ all that.” He peered at Tony from under his mop of tangled hair, an unfairly pretty look. “You know they won’t let us out of it, if it turns out we ain’t suited. We say yes to this, we’re stuck with it.”

“I know,” Tony said. “But we-- We’ve been doing okay together, so far, right? We don’t have to let this change anything, really.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “Doesn’t change anything, doesn’t mean anything. Right. _Sure_.” He sighed, picked up his glass again. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Tony echoed dumbly, and then shook it off. “Okay! Great, that’s... fantastic. I’ll just... I’ll let Hill know. I’m sure she’ll make sure someone does all the planning, but if there’s anything you want, really, just speak up, I’ll make sure someone listens.” Tony couldn’t seem to stop babbling. He ought to be happier than this, now that he was engaged to the love of his life?

“We… uh. Yeah, should probably have some sort of announcement party, that’s a thing, isn’t it?” Bucky asked, considering the bottom of his empty glass. “Maybe it’ll feel more… real. If we go through all the motions. Engagement an’ everything, yeah? You tell Hill. I’mma… I’m going to go wait for the _Avenger_. Steve oughta be in port soon, an’...”

Bucky put the glass down again, straightened his shoulders, and walked out without looking back.

Tony watched him go with the sinking feeling that Bucky really didn’t want to marry Tony, at all. But he’d agreed. For the sake of Triskelion, for the sake of the cause. There were sacrifices they all had to make.

Tony could do a lot worse than having to marry the man he loved, even knowing that Bucky didn’t really want it. Maybe it would get better, when it wasn’t so public. Maybe Bucky just needed some time.

***

_You never expected to get married at all, soldier, what good is it crying about it now?_

Bucky wasn’t even sure where he was anymore. He’d just walked, thinking himself in circles and turning whenever he came to an intersection. He was pretty far from the main parts of Lighthouse’s city, somewhere out near the hydroponics pods, he thought, based on the soil and nutrient smell in the air.

He looked around, not quite curious, and saw what appeared to be a flower and herb garden, open to the public. The air was fragrant with roses and mint and basil, and there were benches, a man-made pond with a fountain, and some sort of large water bird that honked and squawked and complained as he made his way over to one of the benches and threw himself down on it.

“Frell me dead,” he said to the bird.

The bird was not inclined to give an opinion on the matter.

When he’d first signed up for the war, he’d been indenturing himself. A paycheck, provided he survived the bonding process, to his mother and sisters. The rest of the Barnes were long since dead, and if he had grand nieces or nephews, no one had bothered to tell him. Maybe he should check the census databanks.

That was before some of the enhancile restrictions came along. A five year service period, during the war, and then Bucky would be free to go back to Brooklyn, do whatever it was he wanted. He would have been qualified for any number of jobs, might have found a dame or a fella, and settled.

But that was _before_.

Once the restrictions started coming out-- there were concerns that enhancements could be passed on to the next generation and concerns about copyrights and infringements. Whole generations of enhanciles were sterilized, legally.

Bucky was one of them.

He was lucky, he knew that. Some enhanciles had been forced beyond sterilization and all the way to castrated. At least Bucky still had a sex drive and working bits.

But marriage? That had been off the table for a long time.

So why wasn’t he happier?

Tony… well, Tony was looking at it as a political thing. Public relations. A duty, not a desire.

But he was also right. They had been making it work. Together. Maybe… maybe nothing had to change. They could just be together in a more legally binding sense.

Bucky nodded. He’d make it work. They’d… they’d make it work out. He stood up; the water bird squawked at him again. “Nobody asked you,” he told it. There wasn’t anyone else in the little park, so Bucky decided to help himself to one of the flowers. A long, red-petalled thing with a thorny stem and a sweet scent.

He checked his bearings and used his wrist unit to summon a Lift. He’d bring Tony a flower and they could talk about… a ceremony. Maybe Tony had some ideas. Frell only knew that Bucky didn’t.

Of course, by the time Bucky got home, Tony had gone back to the workshop again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The _Avenger_ really was a wreck. The ship was probably older than Bucky was, rusted in places, badly in need of painting, and if the rear stabilizer wasn’t frelling off yet, it would be soon. Obviously, they’d suffered in the last few months from the lack of a proper mechanic.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about seeing his old friend again, given that the last time he’d seen Steve, he’d lied to the man’s face, melted a hole in one of his cargo pods, stolen a shuttle and left a worm in his main system files. Not exactly the sort of leavetaking that merited a warm welcome.

Despite looking like the ship had been through a meteor storm without shields, the pilot, Clint, touched down neatly, without a single scrape or bump. Bucky glanced around; Tony hadn’t decided earlier if he’d wanted to be at the meet-and-greet, and Bucky was guessing he’d decided on not, since the spot at his side was conspicuously empty. Not a great start to their public engagement, but maybe things would sail smoother after they’d both gotten used to the idea.

The hatch dropped, the hull finally cool enough to allow egress, and Steve was first down the ramp, striding like he was planning on invading and occupying the planetary chain rather than a refugee seeking asylum. Or maybe Bucky was just projecting, because as soon as Steve saw him, his whole demeanor changed.

His eyes locked onto Bucky and abruptly halted their sweep of the area, and his whole face lit up. “Bucky!” he called, and he strode down the ramp, arms opening wide. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” He clapped his hands on both of Bucky’s arms, squeezing like he had to double-check that Bucky was solid. “Thank the void you made it.”

“You, too, pal,” Bucky said. “S’amazin’ that this hunk of flying debris ain’t killed you yet. I… uh, owe you a shuttle.” He clapped Steve’s shoulder, trying not to shiver as a hundred memories of Steve descended on him of their life on Brooklyn: his mom, Sarah, and her ragged, hacking cough. Sitting in the park together while Steve sketched with flowers, or the people walking by. Nights where it was so hot they slept out on the fire escape, trying to catch a frelling breeze. Every time he thought he’d gotten to the crest of the wave of memories, another dozen cascaded over him until he had to close his eyes so he didn’t fall from vertigo.

“Whoa, hey, you all right?” Steve asked, catching Bucky as he swayed. “Aren’t they takin’ care of you in this place at all?”

“Yeah, just, uh, my memory,” Bucky said. “It’s associative, sometimes. Stuff I don’t need to think about doesn’t come at me, until… well, until I saw you. Like… oh, all sorts of things. Remember, Rockaway beach? An’ the Cyclone?”

“I remember throwin’ up,” Steve said. His expression was painfully sincere. “I’m so glad _you’ve_ remembered, Buck. I knew you would, if you just had a little time.”

Bucky nodded. It wasn’t _entirely_ true; what he’d needed was to be woken up from cryo properly so that his brain wasn’t scrambled, and then left alone without orders or command words so that he didn’t promptly forget everything again. It was a minor miracle of sorts that he and Tony had managed to come through their adventures mostly intact. “Well, welcome to Lighthouse. And Triskelion. And the rebellion, or whatever nonsense they’re callin’ it these days. You’re just in time for all th’ fun.” Might as well put the best face on it as possible. There were going to be infocasters and news sniffers everywhere. If Bucky didn’t convince his best gorram friend that the wedding was serious, and joyous, they were never going to convince anyone else.

“Yeah?” Steve said, blithely oblivious to Bucky’s meaning. “What kind of fun you got cooked up for us on this rock?”

Bucky curled an arm around Steve’s shoulders and leaned against him. “Wonderin’ if maybe you might stand up with me,” he said. He glanced back at the rest of the crew who were wandering off the ship. Strange and new as it was to be legal entities at all, they still held themselves with a degree of wariness that was as painful to watch as it was familiar.

“Stand up with you?” Steve repeated, confused. “I’m with you to the end of the line, but... for what?”

“Gonna hold you to that,” Bucky said, then grinned. It felt a little false on his lips, but he told himself it was just nerves. “I’m gettin’ married. First enhancile to do that, in what, about seventy years, at least?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he turned to look at Bucky directly. “Married? For real? To--” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Not to Stark?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, decisively. “To _Tony_. Come on, punk, you liked ‘im before you realized his bloodline. Ain’t the man himself that’s changed.”

“No, just knowledge of what he’s been a part of, for most of his life,” Steve started. He glanced at the nearby crowds, then leaned in close. “You sure you want to do this, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. “Th’ politics and publicity, I can take or leave it,” he admitted. “Frellin’ sucks, an’ I hate every inch of it. I’m a soldier, not a celebrity. But… I love him, Steve. I want this… don’t matter what the reason is for it. So… you gonna be happy for me?”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue some more, but he looked hard at Bucky’s face, reading the weather there. Bucky tried to remind himself that he _did_ want Tony, and it was only the politics of it that had left a bad taste in his mouth. Finally, Steve huffed out a sigh. “All the drenning fool things I dragged you into... Guess I owe you that much. Congratulations, you jerk, and I hope he makes you happy for the rest of your span.” He leaned in and tugged Bucky into a  hug.

“C’mon, then, I know he wants to see all of ya again,” Bucky said, which may or may not have been true. But Tony had some good stories about times on the Avenger, before he and Steve had their falling out, and Bucky was positive that he wanted to see Bruce again. Tony’d barely stopped talking about the man, and how much he would enjoy nerding out with the equipment and the labs. “Fury’s had him hoppin’ since we got here, work and more work. But there’ll be a public… thing. Later on, and Hill will get you all into housing, and stuff. I hope you’ll all stay, an’ sign on an’ everything. Fury an’ Tony, they’re really moving and shaking the galaxy up. Who knows, we hold on tight enough, we might end up bein’ real people again.”

Steve slung his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “About frelling time,” he said.

***

“...so this is what we came up with as far as neural relays,” Tony finished, spreading out the bioconnection schematics for Bruce.

Bruce reached into the screen and zoomed in on a detail. “Not bad,” he allowed. “What’s the response rate like?”

“Pretty close to his natural return rate,” Tony said, proud for the work he and Maya had done on Bucky’s new arm. “Which is enhanced, so we’d actually have to throttle it back a little to use the same relays on a non-enhancile.”

“Mm,” Bruce considered it. “A layer of fatty tissue on the embedded relays might help level it out.”

“Have you _seen_ Bucky?” Tony said, grinning. “The man doesn’t have an ounce of fat on him.”

Bruce looked over his glasses at Tony. “Everyone has fat, it’s a necessary--”

“Hyperbole,” Tony sighed. “I was exaggerating, Bruce. C’mon, you may have been in space for the last frell knows how long, but Clint was there. You know what humor is.”

Bruce’s lips ticked up. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But it’s so much fun to make you twitch about it.”

“Hazmot,” Tony accused him mildly. “I’ve missed working with you.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Me too. Steve was... pretty upset.”

“I can only imagine,” Tony said. “We still owe him a new shuttle, too. I’m sure the one we left on Knowhere is long gone by now.”

“And yet, giving him a new shuttle is just going to remind him of the background from which you come, no matter how you earned the units to buy it,” Bruce said. “If I were you, I’d find the oldest, most clunky thing that can still fly and then put it back together with spit and baling wire. Is that even still a thing? Baling wire?”

“I’m sure I can come up with a suitable equivalent,” Tony said, grinning. “You don’t think that’ll just tick him off even more?”

“I think a new shuttle will embarrass him,” Bruce said. “He’s… you know, he’s one of the originals, one of the very first. He was dirt poor, sickly. It’s a wonder he lived through the bonding process. An’ then, he goes up and martyrs himself during the Hydra war. Drops a mass accelerator weapon into an ion nebula to save the entire New York cluster? You’d think that would have earned him some freedom, right? Nope. I found him, ‘bout ten years back, after that dren that went down on Harlem. He was in a malfunctioning sleep capsule. Changed my plans, I’ll tell you that much. I brought him home, get him woke up, and find that SHIELD still thinks he’s their own personal property? He’s earned so much, but he doesn’t even know how to reach out and take it.”

“Well, we’re doing something about that now,” Tony said decisively. “Whichever way this goes, people will have been forced to think about it. That’s something, at least.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Bruce said. “This is… this is pretty nice, Tony.” He waved his hand around, indicating the lab. “Nice to be able to work, to make some contribution that’s not knocking buildings down. It’s a bigger cage than I used to have, at least. More choices. Better choices. But I still can’t go _home_. Neither can you.” Bruce blotted at his cheeks with the edges of his lab coat, his eyes shiny-bright. “Excuse me, need to use the facilities.”

Tony nodded and pointed Bruce in the right direction, and tried not to think about going home. He’d been focusing on trying to build a new home, instead. Going home... He was afraid of what that might mean, for himself, for Bucky, for everyone.

Dum-E knocked something over on the far side of the lab and then frantically waved his fire extinguisher around. Which drew Tony’s attention to the door, where Steve Rogers was leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his massive chest. “Have a word with you, Stark?”

“Captain,” Tony acknowledged. “Come on in, apparently this is the place to be, today.”

Of course, he’d seen Steve already. There’d been a little formally witnessed welcome aboard ceremony sort of stupid thing, where they’d all shaken hands and pretended to be friends. Tony would swear on JARVIS’s original code that this war was taking place primarily in the newsfeeds, and he supposed that was okay, because very few people died from reading an article. But the publicity was a lot, even for him, who’d grown up with info-clips and reporters and photographers around him since he was four years old.

But they hadn’t _talked_.

Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, had. In fact, Tony’d hardly seen his fiancé in the last two days, he was so busy spending time with Steve, and with Nat, whom he’d apparently remembered on a second meeting. At least, Tony thought, he’d see Bucky tonight. Betrothal party. Everyone with their best smiles on.

Steve was rolling his tongue around in his mouth like he was tasting all of his words before he said them. “So, Bucky asked me if I’d stand up with him,” Steve said, finally. “For your wedding. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, meaning it. “He means the world -- several worlds -- to me. I’m sure he’ll be happier to have you at his side. All the publicity is... Well it’s a lot,” Tony said.

“The whole galaxy is watching,” Steve said. “It’s a sticker, put over an ugly spot. _Marriage_. I suppose it’s as good of a face to put on it as anything. Fury’s still going to send us to war, expect us to fight, when Hydra comes.” Steve’s fingers twitched into fists. “Not that I’ll mind that, but we still don’t get to say no, do we? Can’t expect _baseline humans_ to fight, especially not against Hydra’s shock troops. And it’ll look really sweet, if something happens to him, and you get to be a war widow.”

Tony couldn’t even imagine life without Bucky, not anymore. “That’s not going to happen,” he said. If Bucky fell, Tony would be right there beside him.

“None of that matters at all, because here’s the thing, Stark,” Steve said. “We’ll fight this war, and maybe we’ll win and that’ll mean something. Or it won’t, and we’ll just have new _masters_. But if you hurt Bucky, if you break his heart? I will not rest until I frelling _bury you._ So if you’re doing this for the publicity? I suggest you break it off now. Don’t put him up there and let him fall a second time.”

“I love him,” Tony said. “I’m marrying him because I _love him_. The publicity made us rush things a bit, I grant you, but I’m not doing this as a lark, or to spin up the news feeds.” Bucky was the one who was letting the publicity push him where he didn’t want to go, at least not yet, but if Steve didn’t already know that, then Tony wasn’t going to be the one to spill the beans. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll be beside him every step of the way, including whatever fighting needs to be done.”

Steve inspected Tony’s expression, looking for any hint of deception, or callousness, or _something_. “I think he deserves better,” Steve said, finally, “but I’m not gonna be the one to force a decision on him. That wouldn’t make me any better than Hydra. He’s my best friend, my brother. His happiness means everything to me.” Steve’s jaw was ticking, like he didn’t even rate his own happiness above Bucky’s. Frell, Tony wasn’t even sure Steve knew how to be happy; the ex-SHIELD soldier hadn’t exhibited much in the way of lighter emotions for as long as Tony had known him. Clarity of purpose, sure. Righteousness, absolutely. But happiness? Tony wasn’t sure.

“Some days I’m pretty sure he deserves better, myself,” Tony said. “And there’s not a day that passes that I’m not grateful that he chose me. What I owe him is nothing less than my entire life. I hear you loud and clear, Rogers, but I don’t intend to give you any chances to take your revenge.”

Steve nodded, sharp. “All right,” he said. “He tells me you saved his life. More’n once. You’ve earned your chance. And, uh… Tony?” That came out quite a bit lighter than everything else, almost like, having acted the overbearing asshole, Steve had decided that they could be friends again, although Tony was having a little trouble with indignation and anger and a good sized dollop of what would be reasonable concern for living down to expectations, really, to be, perhaps, as polite as he wanted to be.

“What now, Cap?”

“You… might want to tell him. What you said to me,” Steve said. “Because I’m not so sure that he knows.” Cap gave him a sarcastic little two fingered salute and, apparently deciding that was a good line to exit on, turned on his heel and walked away.

Tony watched him go, thoroughly nonplussed. Of _course_ Bucky knew how Tony felt. Didn’t he?


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky was going to be late. He was practically dancing with impatience as Maya Hanson peered in her microscope. “Stop that,” she told him. “It’s distracting.”

“You _said_ it would be ready today,” he complained, cupping his elbows to keep from balling his hands into fists.

She didn’t bother to look up at him, working with a delicate tool. “Day’s not over yet,” she pointed out. “Just let me get it into the setting and-- there.”

Maya pulled the item out and wiped it on her labcoat to clean it, which seemed somehow wrong, before depositing it into the small box. “Here you are,” she said. “This makes up for--”

“Yes,” Bucky told her, brushing his lips over her cheek and taking the box. “You’re completely forgiven for _meltin’ my damn arm off_ at the shoulder.”

“At least until the next time you need something?”

Bucky gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, I reckon it’s my turn t’ owe _you_ one. Are you coming?”

“I, at least, am allowed to be fashionably late,” Maya said. “And I don’t need to get nearly as dolled up as you do. Camera crews aren’t going to be looking at me.” She shooed him out of her lab, and Bucky raced down the corridor for his Lift. Checked the chrono. He had fifteen minutes to get halfway across the planet and into the costume that had been tailored for him. Traditional formal garb from Tony’s home planet of Malibu. Bucky’d been into and out of the thing a few times, getting it fitted, so he was hoping that he could manage it without all the fussing that the tailor seemed to think was mandatory.

_But, face it, Barnes, you’re gonna be late t’ your own betrothal party._

Hill had been happy -- well, as happy as she got, anyway -- to throw the party. Two other systems were considering their proposal, and SHIELD, along with its impressive military, was actually considering staying neutral in any upcoming conflicts. So, morale was sketchy, and a big public show would hopefully pull some of the systems in line.

As it turned out, Bucky wasn’t terribly late. Maybe ten minutes, and the dinner guests were still filing in to the main hall. Bucky and Tony were supposed to go in last anyway, so that everyone could see and admire them. _Performing monkey,_ Steve would have sneered.

Tony, surprisingly, was already there, right on time, or at least less late than Bucky had been. He wore the elaborate costume easily, as if he’d been born to it -- which, of course, he had. The rich colors made his skin glow and his eyes look warm. He lit up as Bucky came in. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said, tugging Bucky close for a brief kiss. “You look gorgeous.”

“Your people need t’ learn what a _sweater_ is,” Bucky complained, tugging at the multi-layered sleeve. “I thought Malibu was supposed t’ be warm. What’re ya needin’ with three different shirts?” He dropped a kiss on Tony’s mouth, and that was almost nice enough to make up for practically being _sewn_ into the damn outfit. “Mmm, well, you’re sweet.” He eyed the remaining dinner guests still being announced, and tugged Tony closer. “We’ve got a minute or two, yeah?” He nipped at Tony’s lower lip before teasing at the crease with the tip of his tongue, ignoring the spectators who saw them in their little alcove, waiting their turn to go in.

Tony hummed and leaned into Bucky’s bulk, his eyes skipping over the remaining guests. “At least, yes,” he agreed. He caught Bucky’s mouth in another kiss. “Mmm, nice.”

“Sorry everything’s gotta go down like this,” Bucky said. “Feel like I’m on a damn stage--” and Bucky knew that, quite literally, he would be, in a few minutes. “Performin’ in a drama that I ain’t read the script for. An’ I know. We _gotta_. It’s important, and it’s bigger than just you an’ me. So… gonna steal a minute here, Tony, okay? Just for me an’ just for you. Got nothin’ to do with what’s about to happen out there, grandiose an’ overblown as it is.”

Tony glanced at the crowd again, then nodded, giving Bucky his attention. “We’ve probably even got time for a couple of minutes,” he joked, though his forehead creased in worry.

“I… uh,” Bucky fumbled in his pocket, and frell it, if he’d left the little box in the Lift-- oh, there it was. “I jus’... on Brooklyn, where Steve an’ I grew up. It was a tradition, when a couple got married, for them to exchange rings, as a promise, and a bit of insurance. If something happened, the rings could be sold, and provide for the widow.” He swallowed, hard, and offered the little box to Tony. “I’d… be honored, if you’d wear my ring.”

Tony stared for so long that Bucky began to worry he wouldn’t take the box, but then he did, opening it to look at the ring inside. “It’s beautiful,” he said. He took it out, a brilliantly bright silvery band, and weighed it in the palm of his hand. “It’s... What’s it made of? This isn’t silver or gold, and it’s not heavy enough for platinum.”

“It’s a… durasteel-titanium alloy,” Bucky told him, “over crystallized vanadium. There wasn’t much of it left, you know, but we salvaged what was left over.” He touched his shoulder, just under the artificial clavicle. “From right here. Over my heart.”

Tony’s eyes were huge. “Your old arm? You... You’re literally giving me a piece of yourself?” Tony’s hand curled into a fist around the ring and he threw his arms around Bucky’s neck. “Baby, this is... Dren, and here I thought you didn’t even want to do this.”

“That--” Bucky jerked his chin in the direction of the festival hall. “--I can take or leave it. But you? Honey, I’ll always want you.” He turned Tony’s hand over, gently. “You like it?” He took the ring out of Tony’s palm and held it out. “Left hand. It’s supposed to go right here.” He slid the ring on Tony’s finger, where it stuttered a moment over the knuckle before slipping on and dropping into place.

“I love it,” Tony said. He flexed his hand, watching the ring’s subtle shift against his skin. “I love you,” he said softly, just for Bucky’s ears. “I... You know that, don’t you? How much I love you. That I want us to be together forever.”

It seemed a shame to admit that Bucky hadn’t known that, not _really_. That he hadn’t been sure. That he _still_ wasn’t certain. “I hoped so,” he confessed. “There’s a lot of room between wish an’ will, an’... you’ve just seemed different, since we got here. Wasn’t sure if there was still a place for me, at your side.”

Tony startled, stared at him. “Honey,” he whispered. “Oh, baby, I never meant to make you feel that way. I’m... too easily distracted by work, I know, but I’m always going to want you with me. Always going to _need_ you. I... Frell, Bucky, you... I... I’m sorry. I love you, I will love you always, and I’m _so sorry_ I made you feel that way.” His hand cupped Bucky’s cheek. “Forgive me? I’ll... I’ll try to be better.”

“We’ll be okay,” Bucky told him, promised him. “There’s nothin’ to forgive, Tony. We’ll figure it out.”

Maria Hill stuck her head back into the alcove and hissed at them, “what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

“Well, everyone else got one,” Tony said. “I don’t know why we shouldn’t.” He ignored Maria’s disgruntled expression, and leaned in to kiss Bucky, fast and hard. “Right, time to go be public.” He grimaced once, then smoothed his features into a smile that looked almost genuine. He twitched the fabric at Bucky’s sleeves, making them all fall neatly into place. “Ready?”

“If I say no,” Bucky whispered for Tony’s ears only, “will ya actually let me run screamin’?” He put his hand on Tony’s arm and set to be led into the room, hearing their names as the seneschal announced them.

It got a laugh out of Tony, even if Bucky had no intentions of running away, and instead of that formal, fake smile, Bucky and Tony entered the hall to greet their guests and fans and the public audience of a thousand worlds across the galaxy, genuinely laughing, sharing a private joke and obvious affection.

***

The betrothal party was going better than Tony had expected it to. Of course, it helped, knowing that Bucky actually wanted it. Not the party, but the betrothal. Tony kept looking down at the bright ring on his finger. Every time he did, something warm and happy swelled inside him. Moreso whenever Bucky caught him looking, and Bucky smiled, just for him.

They were going to be married. Not for political gain, though that would be a side effect. But because they wanted it. Because they loved each other, because they wanted to be together. Tony couldn’t ask for more.

He left Bucky talking with Fury and Rogers, and went in search of a bathroom. Even the happiest of men needed to take a whiz, occasionally.

A woman was standing there, in the hallway. Based on her clothes, it was the nicest outfit she owned, but it was far from the finery inside. Tony’d been told some of the guest list was made up of the general population, given out by lottery ticket. A fancy dinner and a chance to rub elbows with social climbers; a lot of people had been eager to get a glimpse of the newly engaged couple. “That’s a nice party you’ve got going in there, Mr. Stark,” she said, calm and collected.

“It is, thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry, do I know you, or...”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “No real need for you to. I got a simple job, don’t much move in your circles. But it was a good job, for a while. Until I got ill, an’ lost work. Health care, that’s expensive, and we were bad in debt. My son, he signed up for one of those off-world programs. Stark Industries sponsored enhancements. Steady paycheck, and he could support his mom. Travel the galaxy, right? So, yeah, he was signing up for a life of indenture, but what else could we do? I didn’t want him to, but he did it. You all sent me a nice credit, when the bonding didn’t take. And now you think you speak for us? You think you represent us? You don’t, Mr. Stark. And you never will.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Tony said, half on autopilot. “Truly. There’s no good way to tell whether a bonding will fail, or we’d test before accepting applications. But I’m not trying to speak for anyone. I’m trying to get the enhanced the ability to speak for themselves.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a glossy, thrusting it at him. The boy in the photo, because he wasn’t even a man yet, sixteen if he was a day, was wearing a manufactured camera smile. “The dead speak pretty loud, Mr. Stark, but ain’t no one listening to them. My son is dead. No one’s ever going to speak for him again.” She turned and walked away, leaving Tony in the corridor, the photo in his hand.

Tony looked at it for a long moment. He was a handsome boy, would have made a fine addition to the Stark enhanciles, no doubt. That thought tasted bitter on his tongue, and he had to resist the urge to spit.

What _was_ he doing, taking on the role of a leader? He hadn’t gone through even a fraction of the pain a “true” enhancile suffered -- the agony of making that decision, the separation from kin and friends, being used for whatever purpose the owners deemed suitable... He’d had the pain of the physical transformation -- twice, in fact -- but what was that suffering, compared to the rest of it? How _could_ he speak for enhanciles, for their loved ones?

He wasn’t sure how long he lingered in the hall, staring at the photo, ignoring the other guests who came and went. Not caring what they thought, or the rumors it might have started. Until Bucky came looking for him.

“Hey, there you are-- baby, you okay?” Bucky was flushed, a little wobbly on his feet. There were some pretty potent spirits being distributed. No doubt, his betrothed was feeling the warmth. Held out a hand to Tony, to draw him back into the light.

Tony reached for Bucky’s hand, for that lifeline, and clung to it desperately. “Bucky,” he breathed. “Honey, I...” He looked at the picture, still in his other hand. “Are we doing the right thing?”

“We’re standing in th’ hall an’ missing out on th’ cake,” Bucky said, lightly, “so, no… Tony, what happened?”

Tony showed Bucky the picture. “He volunteered. His mother asked him not to, but he did anyway, and... all she ever got back was a credit payout. How can I even begin to speak for people who’ve had this happen to them? How...” He leaned against Bucky’s chest, resting his head against Bucky’s shoulder, craving the warmth and comfort. “How can I speak for _him_?”

“Aw, honey, that’s what we’re tryin’ to change,” Bucky said. “To make us… not a commodity. An’ you know we can’t speak for ourselves, ain’t nobody listenin’ to the property complaining. You… have the standing to make sure our voices get heard. Yeah, what’s happened to people sucks, it’s been awful, but we gotta climb up to fix it. We’re doin’ the right thing, honey. Promise.”

Tony still wasn’t sure, but if it wasn’t him, then it would be someone else who had lived in the limelight. Someone maybe less well-suited. Someone with another agenda to fulfill. Tony took a deep breath and let it out, slow, then forced himself to straighten up. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He summoned a small smile. “Thanks. Love you.”

“Come on,” Bucky said, tugging at him, lightly. “Let’s go have a slice of cake, an’ then I’ll carry you outta here like the savage I am, an’ we can go home, yeah? Things’ll look better in the morning.”

That stretched Tony’s smile some. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s do that.” He tucked the picture into his jacket pocket and then kissed Bucky’s cheek. “You’re the best.”

“Designed and engineered,” Bucky agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the sex-averse - that's pretty much all there is here. Feel free to skip to the next chapter. :)

Hill had decided that Bucky was a natural at manipulating a story; the ring on Tony’s finger had been the first accolade. The newscasters speculated over the ring, digging up James Barnes’ old and practically forgotten past, turning a spotlight on one of the oldest enhanciles, one who’d been engineered by Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine. The story of their meeting and adventures -- somewhat expurgated for general consumption -- were the stuff of epic dramas, and set fire to the imaginations of millions across the galaxy.

The idea that the two of them might have been forced to separate, if the laws concerning enhanciles remained on the books, was a tragedy.

When Bucky capped out the evening by hoisting Tony over one shoulder and carrying him out to a Lift over his laughing protests, it sealed the deal.

They were officially the newsreels’ darlings.

Hill called before they’d even gotten out of the Lift to congratulate them on a successful endeavor. She’d been slightly less impressed when Bucky made a rude gesture in the direction of the ‘screen and went back to kissing Tony possessively.

She squawked, and the ‘screen went black after a moment.

“Huh. I’ll remember that, for next time,” Bucky said, pressing his weight over Tony’s legs, cradled in the vee of Tony’s thighs. “Hill doesn’t wanna watch me kiss you.”

“I don’t think Hill wants to watch anyone kissing anyone else ever,” Tony agreed. “Can we forget about Hill and concentrate on the enthusiastic participants, here?”

“She’s already forgotten,” Bucky said, earnestly. He nuzzled at Tony’s jaw, feeling the prickle of the man’s beard against his lips. Following the line upward, he breathed warm into Tony’s ear, nipped at the lobe. “Been wantin’ t’ kiss you all night, but I wasn’t sure I could stop. Thought it might not look s’ great if a camera crew caught me nailin’ you up against the wall.”

Tony let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, no, that would have been -- _ah!_ \-- bad press, probably.” He slid his hands over Bucky’s shoulders, tangled his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “Is that what you’re going to do, when we’re home? Nail me up against the wall?” He punctuated it with a sensuous roll of his spine, pressing his body against Bucky’s.

“You’re assuming--” Bucky said, trying to figure out where the gorram fastenings were on Tony’s shirt “--that I don’t nail you right here in th’ Lift.” He growled at the formal shirt and started shoving it out of the way, giving up on figuring out how to unhook it. He slithered down Tony’s body, practically kneeling in the footspace, to lip at the exposed skin around Tony’s waist.

“Don’t nail me in the Lift,” Tony said, laughing and gasping by turns. “The ride isn’t long enough for it to be really satisfying. But feel free to, nng, to keep doing _that_.” His hands stroked over Bucky’s hair, his arms, whatever Tony could reach. Tony’s leg curled around Bucky’s hip, tugging Bucky closer, and then Tony’s foot trailed up the inside of Bucky’s thigh, teasing through the thin fabric.

“Not satisfying?” Bucky ran his metal hand, the one Tony had made for him, over the front panel of Tony's slacks, feeling the heat and hardness of him. “You sure about that? Sure that I won't satisfy?”

Tony groaned and pressed up into the touch. “You always satisfy,” he promised. “I’m thinking about your satisfaction, here.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky said. “You think a quick roll in the Lift, watching you fall to pieces in my arms, won't be anything but perfect? I dunno. I kinda like the idea.” He kept moving his hand, marvelling again at how sensitive the new hand was. He could literally feel Tony's heart throbbing under the palm, each twitch of his cock. “Yeah… you think that's not enough?”

“I think,” Tony panted, squirming to try to get more friction, more of Bucky’s touch, “that you are wicked and a tease, and -- oh, frell, do that again! -- and could talk me into damn near anything at this point.”

He was just considering ripping Tony's trousers clean off when the Lift rumbled to a halt at their corridor. “Oh,” Bucky murmured, “guess you're right. Didn't have enough time to satisfy you.” That did not, at all, prevent him from mouthing his way up Tony's thigh right through the fabric, leaving an utterly obvious wet mark behind.

The Lift hatch popped up and Bucky was probably imagining that the semi-AI drive program sighed with relief as it charged their account and bid them good evening.

Tony laughed as they tumbled out of the Lift and into the corridor. “Don’t be upset. Look at it this way: now you can nail me up against the wall, instead.” He kissed Bucky’s mouth, licking at the corner where Bucky was sensitive, and then retreated, glancing over his shoulder as he turned toward their door.

“Both… both might have been nice,” Bucky muttered, slightly disgruntled.

Tony paused in front of their door to look back. “Next time, I’ll hijack the Lift’s AI and send it on a longer path,” he promised. “Now, are you going to come in, or do I need to start this party by myself?”

“Yeah, no,” Bucky said. “I gotcha, you ain’t goin’ nowhere without me.” He captured Tony’s mouth again as the door slid shut behind them, and then captured Tony in a more thorough manner, lifting him up. He spun around, planting Tony squarely against the door panel, groaning as Tony’s legs went around his hips to rub them together.

Tony pressed back against the door to arch his spine, dragging his body against Bucky’s, trusting Bucky’s strength to keep him up. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and surrendered his mouth to Bucky’s plundering, moaning as Bucky mapped every well-known spot. He dragged his hands down over Bucky’s shoulders, deft fingers unfastening the layers of clothing, pushing them out of the way until skin met skin, the slightly rough calluses of Tony’s hands dragging across Bucky’s chest, brushing and then pinching at Bucky’s nipples, caressing the sensitive skin where flesh met metal.

“How th’ _frell_ did you do that?” Bucky grumbled, shedding out of the shirts, one sleeve at a time, needing more of Tony, right that instant. He knew, theoretically, where the openings of the shirts were but he couldn’t seem to find them. “Do we need this frellin’ thing for any other events?” He plucked at the neck of Tony’s formalwear.

“I don’t think s-- Frelling _void_!” Bucky grabbed the delicate fabric and ripped it straight open. “Dren, that’s... I should not find that sexy,” Tony said. He was trying to sound chiding, but missing it by a mile.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky told him, “but you _do_.” Bucky’d been uncertain about Tony’s emotional state, but he was pretty frelling certain of what the man liked sexually. Bucky being bossy and aggressive and frelling desperate for the man got Tony wound up like an old-timey watch. “You like it when I can’t wait t’ get my hands on you. How crazy you make me, Tony. Tony, my Tony.” He kept Tony pinned against the door, supported with one hand as he ran the other down Tony’s chest and over his belly, kissing him the whole time, breathing in the same air that Tony was breathing out until they were both dizzy with it.

“I do,” Tony admitted. “I love it, I love it when you’re showing off all that strength, holding me up or holding me down, making me crazy until all I can think about is you.” He rolled his spine again, pressing the hardness of his length against Bucky’s, a delicious torment of a drag. He pushed the remnants of his shirt off his shoulders and let them drop to the floor. Tony teased at the waist of Bucky’s pants, dipping his fingers below the band, not far enough, just barely skating across Bucky’s abs.

“All,” Bucky said, nipping at the shell of Tony’s ear, then mouthing a line down his throat, “I ever think about… is you.” He slowly let Tony down, until his feet were back on the floor. Tony made a soft, protesting whimper, but Bucky was pretty sure Tony wouldn’t fall. He slithered down until he was on his knees, looking up at Tony. He grabbed Tony’s trousers on his way down, yanking them free from Tony’s hips until they pooled around his ankles. “Mmm, look at you, baby.” He took a moment to just look, keeping Tony pressed against the door. He wet his lips with his tongue.

Tony looked down at him, eyes wide and pupils blown, hair tousled already. “Love you,” he said softly. He brushed his thumb over Bucky’s lips and cheek, an unbearably gentle caress. “Love you so much.”

Bucky’s chest ached at the declaration, like his heart was too big to fit, crammed in behind ribs that were too small, too confining. A shiver went through him, as distinct as the hum of the arc-reactor in Tony’s chest, their pulses aligned in one, perfect moment. He leaned in, never taking his eyes off Tony’s face, and licked at Tony’s cock. His mouth found those unbearably sensitive places and lingered in an erotic caress that covered Tony from balls to crown with sensual, slow strokes of his tongue. Bucky fastened his mouth over the head, slipped down slowly, feeling the rasp of his evening stubble against Tony’s skin.

Tony shuddered and never took his eyes off Bucky. His hand slipped into Bucky’s hair, petting restlessly, clenching as Bucky tongued at those sensitive spots. “God, honey, you make me so...” He planted his feet and pushed hard back against the door, throat working as he swallowed hard. “Feels so good, sweetheart. You always know just how to make me feel good.”

Hot darts of sensation jolted down Bucky’s spine, radiating out from his scalp where Tony had a grip on his hair. All awareness sank down to the licks and kisses and nuzzles he was stringing down Tony’s cock, the smell of it, the heavy weight against his tongue, the heat of Tony’s skin. Every throb of Tony’s dick against Bucky’s plundering mouth sent fire through Bucky’s veins. Tony’s legs were wobbling with an alarming inclination to buckle and give way entirely, but Bucky kept him supported, steady and immobile. He kept the other hand moving, fingertips light and exploring. Traced a line over Tony’s quaking thigh, between them, and up, rubbing at the base of his balls, then back to flicker, teasingly, over his hole.

“Bucky, oh, frell, honey,” Tony groaned. “Yes, please, more, _Bucky_...”

More. More was _great_ , more was… frell. _Not possible_. “Bedroom,” Bucky managed to gasp, pulling himself off Tony’s dick with more than a little regret. He couldn’t quite resist it, either, and lipped his way down the length of it before backing off. “C’mon, it’s not that far.” He wasn’t sure who he was promising that to, Tony, or himself. He hauled himself to his feet, shucking the rest of the way out of his formal wear and leaving the clothes in a colorful heap on the floor.

Tony just leaned against the door for a moment, breathing hard, then kicked his pants the rest of the way off and shoved himself upright. “Bedroom,” he repeated. “Right, yeah. Need... stuff. Also, I was going to fall over pretty soon.” He reached for Bucky, let Bucky take his hand and tow him along to the bedroom. Once through the door, Tony all but launched himself at the bed, leaving Bucky to find the slick as he arranged himself and the pillows, ass high, head pillowed on folded arms.

It was more than a little difficult to maintain any sort of thought in his head when Tony presented that sort of image. “Frell me _dead_ ,” Bucky managed. He almost dropped the little bottle of gel, fumbling it along his fingers before he snatched it out of the air. “You are so… frelling magnificent.”

He drizzled a line of slick down Tony’s crack, chuckling wickedly when Tony squealed at the chilly goop.   

“Go ahead, laugh,” Tony grumbled. “Now you have to come warm me up.”

Bucky ran a teasing finger around Tony’s ass, brushing over his hole, down to his balls and back, not nearly enough pressure, just enough to smear the lube around, delighted as Tony wriggled and shifted, all but whining with need. “I’ll get you heated, don’t you worry about that none,” Bucky told him, and when Tony twisted his neck to throw a dark and exasperated look at him, Bucky breached him with one fingertip, twisting up to his knuckle.

“Ohh,” Tony moaned, dropping his head back onto his arms. “More of that, please.” He wiggled his ass a little in illustration, pushing back into the touch.

Bucky lowered himself over Tony’s body, covered his spine and back with soft, eager kisses. Let his fingers continue their wicked work on the opening of Tony’s body, stretching and coaxing at the muscle as it slowly gave way. He worked in, two fingers, scissoring them out, and using his thumb to rub and massage at the rim. “There you are, honey,” Bucky said. “I got you, you just let me make you feel good.”

“Always do, with you,” Tony sighed. “You’re so good, so sweet.” He rocked his hips in rhythm with Bucky’s slow movements. “Going to make _you_ feel good, one of these days.”

“Always do,” Bucky repeated back to him, because it was only the truth. “You always feel good. So sweet an’ hot an’ tight for me, doll.” He found that sweet spot, deep inside Tony’s body and stroked it, slow and soft and relentless, until Tony was all but sobbing into the pillows, his whole body sheathed in sweat and quivering. He kept Tony on the very edge, as long as he could, then, “roll over for me, baby, I wanna kiss you.” He tugged his fingers free so Tony could move.  

Tony pushed the pillows aside and rolled onto his back, reaching for Bucky with both hands, pulling Bucky down to cover him. He kissed Bucky with urgent, careless desperation, gasping for breath and begging to be touched. “Need you, want you in me, Bucky, my Bucky, please, honey, I need it so bad...”

There was no more resisting, no more teasing. Bucky couldn’t help but respond to that need. His cock was hard, aching, throbbing with the need to get in Tony, to stretch him out, to feel that slick, eager squeeze. “Kiss me,” he told Tony, pressing down on him, getting them lined up. He rubbed the crown of his cock against that hot opening, feeling it catch on the rim.   

Tony’s breath hitched as it did, and he writhed, trying to help line them up. He kissed Bucky’s mouth, dragged his lips over Bucky’s jaw and cheek, and breathed warm against Bucky’s ear before flicking his tongue along the shell. “In me, baby, _please_ ,” he begged.

Bucky gathered Tony closer to him, one arm sliding under his body. Kissed Tony until he was dizzy with it, until his bones turned molten inside his limbs. Thrust his tongue into Tony’s mouth, mimicking the actions his body wanted. He pushed in, slow, so slow, and it was the best and the most difficult thing he’d ever done, sinking into that heat.

He braced himself on one arm, controlling the movement of his hips until he was fully sheathed inside Tony’s body. “I got you, baby,” he said, aware that his voice was harsh and breaking. “Yeah… got you. You’re so sweet.”

“Full,” Tony said. “Filling up with you. Feels so good, so, ohhh, so good, honey.” He squirmed again, and it was almost unbearable, but then the tight squeeze of Tony’s body eased, just a little, and Tony sighed, head falling back. “Yeah, that’s-- Move now, you can move, please. C’mon, baby, give it to me good.” He giggled a little, half-drunk on it. “Mine,” he said. “My Bucky, my _betrothed_.”

Bucky kissed Tony’s throat, licking at the sheen of sweat there, tasting salt and skin. He rocked his hips experimentally, then harder as Tony lifted his legs in response. “Breathe, honey,” he told Tony. Tony was quivering around him, muscles jumping and spasming in delicious torment and Bucky stroked him, building slow and steady rhythm. Every time he finished the upstroke, he licked at Tony’s mouth until he had his lips sealed on Tony’s and he was slamming home.

Tony moaned at each thrust, steadily getting louder, and his mouth was open to Bucky’s, their tongues tangling messily. His legs were wrapped firmly around Bucky’s hips and his hands were clenching Bucky’s shoulders and back, moving restlessly and ceaselessly, dragging over Bucky’s skin, demanding wordlessly. Tony’s back arched as he lifted to meet each thrust, and he was all but whimpering with need, desperate and perfect.

Heat pooled in Bucky’s spine, and the heavy muscles in his back twitched as his breath heaved in and out. Tony’s hands were a divine torture, stroking him everywhere. He gasped, his lungs freezing up as release caught up to him, the rhythm between them stuttering and breaking.

Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s throat, got a hand in between them to work Tony’s cock with eager tugs. “Oh, honey, I…” Bucky’s voice trailed off in a loud, shocking noise, like some wild animal. He pulled himself into the tight clutch of Tony’s body, hard and fast. “Need you, need you to, oh, Tony, beloved…”

Tony’s breath caught and he wailed, caught between Bucky’s hand and cock, all but vibrating between them. He thrust hard into Bucky’s grip, chasing release, and tucked his face in against Bucky’s neck, breath puffing warm and ticklish against Bucky’s skin. “Yeah, baby,” he panted, “yes, yes, just like, don’t stop, that’s, oh frell, that’s good, that’s--” His whole body went rigid, and heat bloomed as he came over Bucky’s hand, his cock pulsing and his ass clenching tight around Bucky.

“There you are,” Bucky crooned, “oh, baby, there… yeah. I…” He dropped one last, tender kiss on Tony’s mouth, then buried himself in Tony’s body, feeling the muscles quake around him. As Tony shuddered through his aftershocks, Bucky cried out, soft and eager for it, the liquid heat and the slow, unfolding relief as each cell in his body burned up and was rebuilt. “Oh… frell, you feel good.”

It took him a while to sort himself out, laying, entwined, with Tony in a caressing drowse, absently petting and stroking Tony’s skin, kissing his hair, his cheek, the side of his neck. “Love you, baby,” he said, nuzzling at Tony’s ear.

“Love you too,” Tony said, sounding just as drowsy and dizzy. His hands were still stroking over Bucky’s body, soothing now instead of enticing. “So much.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was starting to think of the conference room off the side of Director Fury’s office as being the War Room. Situational maps, constantly updating in real time, dotted the walls, shadowless lights forming and reforming as word from distant outposts came in.

Not to mention that Fury seemed to love holding conferences there. Bucky wasn’t quite sure why he had to be involved, really. He was a soldier, not a tactician. The best he could do on a battlefield was shoot the officers on the other side, which was unsportsmanlike and sometimes endangered his own unit’s officers, but that was war.

Tony wasn’t particularly keen on being there, either, but Fury had pretty much drafted him from the get-go to be the war’s major armory engineer. Even Hydra had an entire corps of inventors and scientists and engineers building their war machines. Triskelion had Tony. And Bruce. And a few other volunteers.

This particular meeting might be a little more entertaining than normal, as Bucky had put a word in Fury’s ear, and the man had drafted Steve, for his opinion and advice.

He was looking forward to watching Steve and Fury fight it out. Because it was inevitable that the two of them would come to some sort of loggerheads, and neither of them had the sort of ego that allowed for backing down. _No, you move_ , that was Steve Roger’s frelling motto, right there.

“... came specifically for Barnes,” Maria was saying, and she slid a packet of flimsieplas down the table to him.

“Huh?” Bucky wasn’t used to being caught out; he’d always had plenty of warning before someone directed a question or comment at him. Under the table, Tony pressed his foot against Bucky’s ankle.

“From Asgard,” Maria said. “It was addressed to you.”

_Master Barnes, from Loki Odinson_

“Oh,” Bucky said, and his neck heated a little. He remembered the very beautiful courtesan that had helped him on Asgard, a friend of the Avenger’s crew, and brother to their main distributor. He couldn’t imagine what Loki wanted with him, enough to send a pinbeam communique halfway across the galaxy. “It’s from Loki.”

Tony shifted in his chair. “Of course it is,” he muttered under his breath. In a more normal tone, “What is it?”

Bucky uncoiled the seal and flicked out the sheet of flimsie. Bucky stuttered over the first page, a full-sized capture of the man’s face, his green eyes brilliant and his smile warm. He dropped that page on the table, and read the attached letter. “Huh. I didn’t know that,” Bucky said. “He… uh, welcomes Triskelion’s growing maturity, assures us that Asgard looks upon our recent decisions with approval, and, in the name of the Allfather, would like to extend an invitation to Asgard to seal an alliance. He notes that this is the first time Asgard has entered into a state of alliance with -- what’s a midgardian?”

“It mostly means ‘human’, as near as I’ve been able to tell,” Tony said. “It’s either very formal, slightly rude, or both. Knowing Loki, I’m guessing both.”

“-- okay, then,” Bucky said. “They’ve apparently maintained a neutral stance toward other realms, his word not mine, for a thousand years, feeling we weren’t yet mature enough to be held their equal. There’s a notion. In any case, having accepted biologically engineered improvements -- I think that means us, enhanciles -- as the standard for continued bypass of evolutionary traits, they welcome us to a broader universe. And… they want us t’ hold the wedding on Asgard, where they will seal the alliance? _The frell_?”

“Pompous windbag,” Tony grumbled. He glanced toward Fury, and slumped a little. “Asgard’s too rare a jewel to turn our nose up at the offer, though. They could make or break this whole war.”

“An Alliance with one of the most powerful systems in the galaxy? I’d say so, Stark,” Fury said. “Who’s this Loki?”

Steve tipped his head to one side. “He’s… dren, he an’ his brother are the sons of the AllFather -- we’d call him a King or something like that, probably. They run a business on the side of black market goods. I think it amuses Thor, if nothing else. Loki, on top of everything else, is one of the best… erm…”

“He’s a courtesan,” Tony filled in. “Which as near as I can tell, in Asgardian society, is considered a noble calling, so you’ll want to carefully brief anyone who joins the wedding party to watch what they say if you don’t want to piss them off.” He paused. “And you’ll want to issue countermeasures for Class G aphrodisiacs, too.”

“Aw, I thought they were nice,” Bucky said, grinning. Taking Loki’s hand at that moment had been like an ease of fear for the first time in frell only knew how long. Comforting and warm, like being wrapped in a blanket of affection. “And there’s a postscript here, babe. He says to congratulate you on… recovering your identity?”

Tony huffed. “I _knew_ he knew. He’s going to be _insufferable_ about it.”

Steve scowled, “He knew the whole time who you were and he never said a _word_? That conniving little--”

“Let’s not say anything unpleasant about our new allies, Captain Rogers,” Fury advised. “Asgard’s sanction can do a lot for us, politically.”

“We’ll have drinks later to call him names,” Tony told Steve, half-smiling. “He’s a frustrating character.”

Bucky scoffed. “He was always nice t’ me. I like him.”

“That’s because you--” Steve blushed, suddenly, that pasty skin of his glowing like an ember in the fireplace. “Erm.”

Bucky winked at Tony, who knew dren well that Bucky had not, actually, had sex with the courtesan. “Frelling right I took advantage of services offered.”

Tony, apparently, was on board with trolling Steve. He smirked. “Taught Bucky some interesting tricks, too,” he told Steve earnestly. “So I guess he’s not _all_ bad.”

Hill scowled and looked as though she was seriously considering throwing something at them. Her chair, perhaps.

“Don’t rightly know why they want t’ host the wedding,” Bucky said, “but I don’t reckon we can really say no. Don’t wanna insult th’ guy what owns the biggest fleet of destroyers in the galaxy.”

Tony brightened. “Maybe we’ll get to play with some Asgardian tech while we’re there. I could make so many improvements to our fleets if I could put my hands on their tech.”

Fury nodded. “We’ll make sure to include you in any discussions on sharing of knowledge, but tread careful, Stark. We don’t need to go making enemies from friendlies.”

“I will be the very model of restraint,” Tony promised blithely.

Steve made a noise halfway between mocking disbelief and an attempt to cover it up to be polite, and ended up coughing until Hill pounded him on the back, either in an attempt to help, or to murder him faster. Bucky never could tell, with Hill.

“I’ll get with Logistics, then,” Fury said. “Moving the wedding has one advantage. We probably don’t have to pay for it, anymore. Also, it’ll be smaller. There’s no way we can move the entire guest list offworld.”

“That’s two advantages,” Tony said. “Three: Bucky won’t have to wear his Malibu formals again, because Asgardian formalwear is. Different.”

“Good,” Bucky said.

“Hold that thought until you see Asgardian formal wear,” Steve cautioned him with a smirk. “You might be less than pleased.”

“In for a penny,” Bucky said. “You have to wear ‘em, too. Part of the wedding party, punk.”

Steve groaned dramatically, which seemed to be the signal for everyone to start packing up their portables and notes.

Bucky leaned over to Tony. “Gotta say,” he said in a low tone, “it’s a little unnervin’. Everybody in th’ whole frellin’ galaxy is way too interested in our marital state.”

“All the more reason to get our marital state settled, so they can stop poking their noses into it,” Tony said.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that; having their marital state settled sounded… very nice. “Guess we best go an’ pack.”

***

Tony tightened his focus, and the nanites that made up the Extremis in his bloodstream began to oscillate on their miniscule level, letting them pick up the electronic vibrations in the air, to merge with them and then to control them. It had taken him days of practice to learn to control this ability. He couldn’t do it for too long at a stretch, because focusing Extremis meant it wasn’t healing the constant damage caused by the poison in his arc reactor. But for a few hours, he could open his eyes and _see_ electrical impulses, control them. Become one with the tech surrounding him.

He hadn’t had the chance to practice this on a spacefaring vessel before. He’d spent half the trip to Asgard in the engine room, tucked in a corner away from the ship’s engineers, just staring at the FTL drive and the more prosaic grav drive. They _sparkled_. He wondered what a BEHS drive would look like, but not many ships carried those, for the danger they created.

The engineers glanced at him, now and again -- Bucky had told him that in the midst of a tech trance, his eyes glowed an eerie gold color. It was probably a little unnerving. But he couldn’t help wanting to watch, to guide. There -- the grav drive’s main thruster was just a little out of sync. Not detectable to human eyes, and well within safety tolerances, but it would shimmy further and further out of alignment until it _did_ need to be fixed. Tony tugged on Extremis and the autoaligner recalibrated itself, pulling the thruster back into singing harmony with the rest of the drive.

Frell, he couldn’t _wait_ to get a look at Asgardian tech with these eyes. Everything seemed so much simpler like this, all the little pieces and pulses of energy a glorious dance of precision and perfection.

If the grav drive was engaging, then they were probably coming up on final approach. He should release his focus and go find his husband-to-be. It was hard to let go, though. Hard to go back to a mundane, prosaic view of the world after this shining, glittering beauty.

He skated his consciousness over the surface of the engines once more, then dove into the computer bank and pulled up the timetable. Two hours to planetfall. Just enough time to shower and change and let Fury debrief them all on their schedules, as if Tony didn’t already have it all memorized.

Carefully, he released his focus, became aware once more of the ache in his body and the light in the room that was nothing like the light of electrical pulses. He climbed slowly to his feet -- using Extremis that way always left him exhausted -- and left, making his way toward the cabin he and Bucky shared, ignoring the muttering of the engineers.

Bucky was pacing back and forth, checking a square of flimsie, and then practicing his speech again. As Loki’s “special friend,” which was probably a revenge suggestion on Steve’s part for Tony and Bucky embarrassing him, Fury had decided that Bucky was the one who’d be giving the first greeting to the Asgardians. Tony, at least, had helped write it, given that he had a better education, at least as far as ridiculous protocols were concerned. Asgardians were as formal as they came, as a people, and they were tetchy, and quick to take offense.

“Where’ve you been?” Bucky asked. “You missed lunch, again. There’s a pack for you, in the reconner, if you’re hungry. Are you sure we should use th’ word ‘divest’ here? Makes it sound like I’m plannin’ on taking his clothes off. Which, I suspect, Loki might like, but ain’t exactly fittin’ with the occasion.”

“Engine room,” Tony said. He leaned in to kiss Bucky on his way to the tiny galley. “And yes, ‘divest’ is the right word. He’ll know what it means. Anyway, the speech is _technically_ addressed to the Allfather, he’ll just be there as a proxy.” Tony pulled the pack out of the reconner and sniffed at it. Some sort of fish, probably? It smelled good, at any rate; Fury’s ship had decent food, for sure.

He took his lunch back into the main cabin and sat at the little table to watch Bucky pace as he ate. “Everything’s going to be fine, sweetheart.”

“That ain’t ‘xactly reassuring,” Bucky said. “Talkin’ to the father-king of the whole world, through his son. The… professional companion. Really, you should talk to ‘im, you’re better at that sort of thing than I am.”

“But he asked for you,” Tony pointed out. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

“This is some cosmic joke,” Bucky complained. “Askin’ for me. I’m a nobody. From Brooklyn!” Bucky stared down at the speech again. “I’m gonna screw it up, Tony. Make us all look stupid.” He shuffled over until he was practically leaning on Tony, tucking his face into the safe hollow of Tony’s throat.

Tony wrapped one arm around Bucky and nuzzled at his temple. “You’ll be fine,” Tony told him. “You didn't worry about looking stupid the last time you met Loki. He hasn’t changed.”

“A’ight,” Bucky said, finally, pulling away as if reluctant to leave the safety of Tony’s embrace. “Kiss for luck, then we gotta get all dolled up for this… _greetings ceremony_.” The Asgardians did love their little ceremonies. There were, Tony knew, people among them whose entire purpose in life revolved around the protocols of each ceremony. All of the upper class and a good portion of the middle classes employed at least one protocol specialist.

Tony tugged Bucky close again and caught him in a kiss, tasting the edges of his lips before finally licking into the warmth of his mouth, sweet and yielding. They kissed until they were both breathing hard, and then Tony finally pulled away. “How’s that for luck?”

“I’ve got you, doll,” Bucky said. “S’all th’ luck that I need.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

All the ceremonies had gone exceptionally smoothly, Tony thought. Everyone recited all the correct formulas, no one committed any terrible faux pas, and the Asgardians had welcomed them all with open arms. Even Loki had been much more charming and polite than Tony had ever seen him before. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think the courtesan actually enjoyed their company.

It had been exhausting, though. Greeting ceremony, followed by a formal banquet, followed by more speeches. They’d been on Asgard for two days, and Tony was beginning to think they all spoke naturally as if they were the chorus in an old-Earth play.

He was actually beginning to look forward to the wedding rituals, because the first of them involved spending the night before the wedding in meditation. Which meant he’d finally be left _alone_ , and not have to be on display. Bucky was expected to meditate as well, and they’d be separated for the night, but Tony had more or less expected that, anyway. It was a common theme to mating rituals, he’d noticed, a separation before the grand joining.

So he dressed in the comfortable-if-odd robe that was provided to him and presented himself for one last round of speeches and posturing. He kissed Bucky gently and whispered, “See you at the wedding,” and then turned to his escort-- to find Loki smirking at him from under that ridiculous headpiece he wore.

Tony blinked in surprise; he’d expected that if anyone, Loki would be Bucky’s escort. But with everyone watching, Tony could only bow in greeting and gesture for Loki to lead the way to the meditation chamber.

Loki offered Tony a slender arm, with a graceful gesture that flipped his sleeve aside to reveal the delicate wrist underneath. From everything Tony had heard or read about Asgardians, there was nothing delicate about them. Naturally stronger and much more solidly built than humans, Asgardians were, if not precisely aliens, not entirely -- or not any longer -- humans. “Do not let yourself be concerned. Your betrothed is in good hands. The Lady Sif has agreed to take him under her tutelage for this, most important, beginning.”

Tony had met Lady Sif. If anyone seemed less likely to meditate than her, Tony hadn’t met them yet, but he supposed she’d be a perfectly reasonable escort to make sure all the formalities were followed. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything she can teach him,” Tony said, mindful of those who were watching as he took Loki’s arm.

“Sif has a warrior’s heart and spirit,” Loki said. “The act of calmly reflecting on her life and her choices has never been one of her strongest abilities. She is, assuredly, elegant and unparalleled in combat. She is not, however, serene. She will be the best possible instructor for Master Barnes, as they have much in common.”

Tony tried not to laugh too obviously, unsure of how many recording devices might still be pointed their way. “Indeed.” He waited until they’d turned a corner into an empty corridor and added, “I thought you might be his escort, since you like him so well.” It only came out a _little_ bitter.

“Indeed, I find a great deal of pleasure in his company,” Loki said. “Perhaps the reason is unclear, allow me to illuminate. Midgard, I understand, has moved away from concepts of purity, which is just as well. The obsession with the state of never knowing the pleasures of the flesh --” Loki waved a hand around, dismissing it. “Virginity is not purity. Knowledge is not intelligence. Tomorrow, Barnes will swear to give himself to you, and you to him. This night, you will think on your choices, you will become… _emotionally_ pure, that you are not tainted by old associations, or clinging to a love forever gone. It is a solemn state, and one that should be given all due respect. A marriage is a sacred thing, the giving of one’s heart and the trusting of one’s soul to another.”

“So I’ve been told,” Tony said. Endlessly. At least eight times since they’d landed on Asgard.

“If I were to intrude upon Barnes’ meditation, it could possibly taint the ceremony. He has known joy in my arms, and it would not be _appropriate_ for me to mentor him, in this case.” Loki’s expression was almost entirely neutral, but Tony didn’t quite miss the quick flick of those emerald eyes, searching to see if he’d won a point with that subtle reminder.

Tony tried not to let it be a point. He knew Bucky hadn’t had sex with Loki -- they’d shared a bath and Loki had given Bucky a massage, and that was it. But it had still been a decadent intimacy, at a time when Tony had still been trying to work out his own feelings. “Well,” he said after a moment. “I suppose that makes sense.” He glanced sidelong at Loki. “Have I thanked you for that? I should.”

Loki’s eyebrow went up with astonishment. “You have not,” he said. “Enlighten me, what service have I provided?” They made another turn and then entered a stair that took them several flights above the normal public parts of the castle where Loki and his family made their home. They didn’t call it a castle, of course, but there was no denying that’s exactly what it looked like, all graceful spires and domed ceilings and gilded walls.

“The things you taught him, in your time together,” Tony said. “He recovered his memories with your help, and that’s... entirely aside from our little games, I have to be grateful for that.” Tony paused a moment to let the gravity of that sink in, and then added, “And, of course, I can’t downplay my enjoyment of the more... physical pleasures you taught him, as well.”

Tony absolutely was not enjoying the stiffness in Loki’s mouth when he said, “Well, I’m honored, of course, that you’ve benefited from my services.” Nope, not even a little, that was his story and he was sticking to it.

But it had been too long since he’d scored a point, so maybe he was enjoying it a _little_ bit. “How far is it to this meditation thing, anyway? Just how much instruction are we talking about, here?”

“Not terribly,” Loki said, and it was just another room down, very top of one of those ridiculous minarets that clung to the side of the mountain, with an immense view of the city spreading out below. The room itself was a half circle, with elaborate tiled floors and walls and frescos painted on the ceiling. Set onto one side of the room was a deep, steaming pool of water -- Tony thought irreverently that it made the whole room resemble a deviled egg -- and a padded pallet in front of the window. There was no other furniture in the room, save a small chest near the door.

“This is your meditation sphere,” Loki said, removing a small object roughly the size and shape of a tennis ball. “Try not to drool on it.”

He placed the item in Tony’s hands; it was heavy, but not terribly so, plain and solid and an almost underwhelmingly boring shade of yellow.

“That’s it?” Tony asked, torn between amusement and offense. “‘Don’t drool on it?’ That’s all I get?” He turned the sphere over in his hands, looking for markings or other features.

“Have a bath, or kneel on the pallet, or stare out the window, whatever helps you to relax and concentrate,” Loki said. “Hold it, like so--” he cupped his hands, just under his face “--and it will do the rest. You may hear, or see, things that are not real. The sphere will guide you, but ultimately, the journey is your own, and I cannot tell you where it might take you. Some have even seen visions of things to come.” Loki shrugged one shoulder. “Of course, other people fall asleep. You’ll find the light in the morning fairly bright, and it should wake you before you’re… _caught_ napping.”

“I won’t be caught napping,” Tony said, still looking at the sphere. He certainly wouldn’t. If they were finally leaving him alone with Asgardian tech, he would take advantage of every moment to study the thing. However it worked. “Any other words of wisdom?”

“Don’t stumble, getting out of the bath,” Loki suggested. “As is proper, you will be left quite alone this night. I will come and fetch you in the morning, just past full dawn, so you can prepare for the ceremony. It is… the typical thing. Fasting and meditating. We are a long lived people, so we do love our little reflections. If you need more light, or less--” Loki waved a hand near the door, which brought the lights up, then down, then returned to the dimness of candle light. Tony couldn’t quite tell where the light was coming from, the fresco, perhaps.

Tony suppressed a snort. “All right,” he said. He put on his most refined airs, and offered an elaborate bow. “My thanks for your generous and considerate care.”

Loki gave him a smile, lifted his ridiculous scepter… and vanished.

“Showoff,” Tony muttered. But Loki was hardly worth considering. Tony had meditation to do -- namely, meditating on the way this tech worked.

He sat on the pallet, legs crossed, and focused Extremis. The room lit up brightly, electric current surging all around him. Excellent. He directed his attention toward the sphere cradled in his hands, excitement making his heart pound.

The little globe was completely inert. It looked to Tony’s enhanced vision as if Loki had handed him a plain metal globe. Even the walls had more activity to them.

Tony wouldn’t put it past Loki to play a trick on him, but not with so much at stake, with the entire galaxy watching. Maybe it really _was_ inert, merely a point of focus for more prosaic meditation techniques. So much for Asgardian superiority, if so.

But Loki had definitely made it sound as if the device _did_ something. Tony turned it over. Shook it. Held it to one ear and listened. Nothing. It remained stubbornly dark and useless. Frowning, Tony cupped it in his hands the way Loki had showed him, and lifted it toward his face--

The sphere exploded into Tony’s consciousness. If an FTL drive glittered with dancing lights, this thing was a miniature sun, a black hole turned inside out. It overwhelmed Extremis and drove into his very consciousness. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream, as his vision brightened into painful white and then went away entirely.

***

Lady Sif was the least stuffy and uptight of the Asgardians Bucky had met so far. She was ridiculously tall, towering over him at least four inches, and that was before she put on the platform high-heeled boots she seemed to prefer. He was quite positive that someone like Sif was exactly the kind of person who inspired old Earth myths about valkyrie or Amazons. Sif gave her age in Asgardian terms, twenty seven years, but Bucky could read a space chart. Asgard circled its primary (Yggdrasil or something ridiculously difficult to pronounce) about once every thirty or so of what was considered galactic standard. And she was still considered a young adult.

He supposed that someone very like her, indeed, could have been to old Earth. Her grandmother, perhaps.

“This is all nonsense,” she said, climbing the stairs. “Visions and meditation and purity of emotion.” She said all of those with a certain dragging exaggeration, the way a school child might talk about having to do their maths. “Sit down someplace comfortable -- I personally dragged the pad back to the wall, last time I had to do any meditating -- stare at the sphere and daydream. It’s just stirring up the same sludge in your head that makes you dream. Don’t get scared. Nothing that happens can hurt you. If the sphere really gets on your nerves, just dunk it in the water. It’ll shut down for a while after that.”

“Do you take anything seriously?” Bucky asked her, not to be insulting or demeaning, but because he really wanted to know.

“I take death seriously,” she said. “Mine. My enemy’s. Everything else is just for fun. I am never getting married; if I want a lover, I shall take one. If I want a child, I shall have one. None of this… exchange of hearts and souls. My soul is my own. But, you shall have it your own way.”

Bucky wondered. It sounded nice, having some core piece of Tony to call his own, and certainly his own heart was battered enough, his own soul corrupted enough, that he felt more guilty than anything about making Tony take them. But Tony had said he wanted it, and Bucky believed that. (Mostly. But he was trying to remind himself his doubts were more about his own worthiness and not about Tony’s sincerity.)

“So, here you go,” she said, ushering him into a ridiculously empty room with an amazing view. “I’ll stomp on the stairs really loud on my way up in the morning, in case you fall asleep. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone if you do.”

Sif leaned down and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “Sphere’s in the box. Just hold it, like this--” she gestured like she was cupping a flower to smell “-- and it does all the work for you.”

“Thanks.”

Bucky watched as the door sealed behind her. He explored the room, not that there was much there that wasn’t visible on the first sweep, but he did find towels, in case he decided to bathe. The room was a little open and exposed for that, really, so Bucky took the sphere from its little box.

He sat in the middle of the padded mat, which cushioned him until he was resting as comfortably as possible while in a criss-cross. He imagined his back wouldn’t like it if he stayed that way the entire night, but he should at least go through the motions of the ceremony, right?

Bucky raised the sphere, cradled in his cupped palms.

It wasn’t… exactly like dreaming.

Flickers of images popped into his mind: he and Steve in a bar, the night before Bucky shipped out for enhancile bonding. The girls he’d danced with. Just images, the side of Dot’s face as she laughed. His sister’s hands as she pulled a tray of fresh baked bread from the oven. A soft ray of sun and the sleeping cat contained within.

A few, haunting notes of music.

The feel of Tony’s skin under his fingertips.

The smell of his hair.

Tony, frightened and angry, cramming the EVA suit helmet on, as Bucky slipped into the sonic shower…

The weight of Tony’s hands on his chest…

“... tell me how to disengage the pain receptors…”

“... DUM-E always sets stuff on fire…”

And Tony.

_And Tony._

Bucky fell into the hole of his memories, assisted by the sphere, reliving every moment they had together, just as clear and precise as it had been the first time.

It could have been hours, or days, or months when Bucky was dragged out by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Loud, like Sif had promised. Bucky put the sphere down reluctantly, but it was not Sif who opened the door.

Instead, Loki stood there when the door opened, looking around with angry, jade green eyes. “Well, this is a predicament,” he said. “I was hoping to find him here.”

“What?”

Loki tipped his head to one side. “I don’t know what Stark saw in his sphere, but apparently it was enough to change his mind. He’s gone.”

The sphere fell from Bucky’s fingers and rolled away, making a dull clink when it struck the wall. He’d been _jilted_?

 


	8. Chapter 8

Tony’s head hurt.

It hurt a _lot_. Where the hell had he been partying last night, and did anyone get the licence on the grav-thrust that ran him over?

Tony pressed his hand hard against his throbbing temple and, very gingerly, sat up. The floor under him was deckplate, the wall that he grabbed to stop the room from spinning was standard bulkhead. He was on a ship.

Well, that made sense. He’d been--

No, wait. Back up. Rewind.

He’d been on _Asgard_. Right? Indulging their weird little pre-marital ceremony. A feast -- Asgardians loved to feast -- and then... meditation? He vaguely recalled trading quips with Loki, and then... nothing. What had happened?

Had he gotten married and _forgotten_ about it? Gone on his honeymoon and gotten so spaced that he’d lost whole days? Bucky was going to kill him. Tony staggered to his feet and pried his eyes open a little wider.

There was a bunk in the room, but it was too narrow for two. It definitely wasn’t the honeymoon suite. In fact, it looked like the cheapest of travel cabins, barely big enough to turn around in. Maybe Tony had wandered into the wrong room by mistake? Bucky was _really_ going to kill him.

He pushed at the hatch to open it and nearly brained himself walking into it. It hadn’t opened.

He pushed again. Nothing. Electronic release, maybe? None that he could see. He tried a few more times, then banged his fist on the hatch, wincing at the way it made his headache worse. “Hey! Hello? I seem to be stuck!”

The hatch slid aside, and instead of facing a confused conductor or helpful bystander, Tony found himself looking at the business end of a Bain Industries 541 stunner.

“Are you going to cry the whole way there, because if so, Tony, I’d be happy to tranq your ass and leave you to drool on the floor,” the man behind the stunner said. He came into the room, pushing at Tony with the weapon, and Tony saw a fall of platinum blond hair, and… Ty fucking Stone?

“Ty? What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Bucky?”

Ty chuckled. “How ever much did you drink before we found you?” He reached out, the stunner never wavering, and patted Tony’s cheek condescendingly. “So simple, really. We didn’t even have to fight you, you’d already knocked yourself out. Easiest job I’ve ever had.” He ended the pat with a vicious slap that sent Tony sprawling to the floor, ears ringing. Probably more to do with the already horrible headache than any particular strength in Ty’s arm. Vain as he was, he’d never quite had the discipline to learn to fight. Too worried about messing up his face.

Tony fought to think properly through the fog of pain. “What job?” he asked. “Wh-- Did you _kidnap_ me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ty scoffed. “You’ve have to be human for that, and we both know you’re not human anymore. I’m just returning a bit of stolen property. And just in case you were worried, your sweetheart’s not even going to be missing you.” He jerked his head at the wall and a screen lit up. Tony, looking blissed out and drunk, leaning on a leggy brunette. Another one, where she was sitting in his lap, and being kissed. “Don’t worry, we got your good side.” None of the images showed Tony’s face particularly close up, but it was quite obviously him. Getting on a ship, his hand plastered over the same girl’s backside. “Sunset should get an award for acting like she wants you.”

“Sunset-- Sunset _Bain_?” Tony blinked at the pictures. They were too indistinct to make out the girl’s face clearly, but he’d met Sunset a time or two before, at official functions. It... _could_ be her. “And _you_. Who the hell hired the two of you for this? Where are you taking me?”

“Back home, Tony, where else should we return someone’s property? Mr. Stane’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival,” Ty said. “Thought we’d lost you for a bit there, when the wedding was moved, but the Asgardians, they… well, they think we all look alike. Wasn’t hard to fool them, slip aboard Fury’s ship. Had to talk fast to get a lift out of there, but you never even woke up. You’ve been sleeping off an Asgardian whiskey hangover for _days now_ , I guess. But don’t worry. We’ll be back on Malibu tomorrow evening.”

Oh, frell. Days. It wasn’t a hangover, either, it was that damned _meditation sphere_. It must have done something to Extremis. _Days_ , he’d been missing, and Bucky must think... What _would_ Bucky think? Oh, dren. “Bad move,” Tony said, playing for time. “Hydra will pay a lot more for me. Stane just wants to cut me open; Hydra wants to make it _hurt_.” He grinned. “You lose.”

“Stone!” Another person stormed into Tony’s little room, “I told you _not_ to talk to him.” She stared at Ty, then at Tony. “Idiot. What are you doing, monologuing like some villain in a bad comic book?” She smacked him upside the back of his head. “Excuse us, Mr. Stark. I am obviously not working with professionals.”

“Ms. Bain,” Tony greeted her. “You look ravishing, as always. I’ve apparently been out of it for several days -- if an Asgardian offers you booze, I’d suggest declining. Any chance I could get something to eat?”

Sunset snatched the stunner away from Ty. “Go get him some food and water,” she snapped. “He’s no good to anyone if he starves to death. Moron.”

Ty looked like he might protest, but the competent manner in which she wielded the stunner and the ease of which she’d taken it away from him seemed to give him pause. “Food, right,” Ty said.

“And don’t spit in it, that’s just rude,” Sunset said. “Believe me, I will know.” She turned back to Tony. “I’m so sorry, it’s in no way my intentions to mistreat you.”

“Aside from turning me over for vivisection, of course,” Tony agreed. He massaged his temples again, though the headache was starting to recede. Food would help; Extremis burned a lot of energy.

“When the matter came before the council, I was willing to call your initial alteration a… radical surgical procedure and move on from there. But you disappeared before a decision could be reached. Not without reason, I’m quite sure. This… rebellion you’re fostering, however? That’s just bad business, Mr. Stark. Enhancements aren’t without expense; if we encourage this notion that they’re free to the public? Well, that would put me right out of business. It’s nothing personal. You would have been much better off if you’d let me argue for you, back in the beginning, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The idea has to die, and if that means you die with it, well, you have my regrets.”

Ty returned, carrying a tray with reconned roast beef and gravy, it smelled like. Tony’s stomach woke up with a terrifying growl.

He all but grabbed the tray from Ty and started stuffing his face. Maybe if he disgusted them, they’d go away and leave him alone.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Ty said, condescendingly.

His moment was ruined, however, by Sunset’s elaborate eyeroll. She cuffed him again. “Come on, leave our guest alone. Get some rest, Mr. Stark. You’ll need it.”

Pushing Ty out the door in front of her, Sunset left the room and locked the door behind them, a sliding bolt of some sort, by the sound of it.

Tony didn’t care, for the moment. He scarfed down the meal, not even caring if Ty actually did spit in it. He’d had worse things in his mouth, and Extremis desperately needed the fuel. By the time he’d finished eating, he was feeling almost human again. He sat on the narrow bunk and leaned back against the wall.

Deep breath. Another deep breath. How the hell did he get out of this? He could hijack the ship’s tech, but changing course mid-jump was a recipe for suicide. He’d have to wait until they dropped into normal space. And then he had to make sure that whatever he did, they couldn’t get to him to knock him out before he finished it. His body was more vulnerable when he was talking to tech. So it would have to be something very fast, or something very subtle.

He closed his eyes and ran through the ship’s systems in his head. He wasn’t sure what kind of ship they were on, but for sure it would have Bain drives in it; Sunset would never stoop to using anything else.

There was a limited amount of actual damage he could do without being able to put his hands on the gear; computer-controlled systems only. Still, there was a lot he could do with subtlety. He remembered the flight to Gulmira with Bucky, and smiled.

***

There really wasn’t anything left in his guest room to break.

Bucky scowled at the walls with their missing paintings, the dents where his artificial fist had landed on the bland, hard surfaces. Scorch marks from exploded electronic equipment and light fixtures. Not to mention the one wall that had to be hastily rebuilt after Bucky kicked the support beam out.

He was probably lucky the Asgardians hadn’t thrown him in some sort of prison, with all the destruction he’d been causing.

But they hadn’t.

Loki was the only one who even dared be in his company anymore, but that one seemed to take everything Bucky did in stride. He’d learned to project his image instead of entering the same room, just to be safe, although Loki had also commented that, growing up with Thor, Bucky’s rages were overdone and melodramatic (that was what had happened to the support strut. See how melodramatic the building falling over was. Frelling asshole.)

The political fallout had been unreal. The Sakaarians had both immediately offered Bucky sanctuary and withdrawn all support from Triskelion, claiming that enhanciles would just have to make their own way in the galaxy and to the void with all baseline humans. A skirmish had actually broken out near Hydra-controlled space, where a group of enhanciles attempting to escape had been fired upon by SHIELD ships. Casualties were light, but there were at least fifty enhanciles now in a POW situation, and no one quite knew what to do about it.

It was in every way a disaster, and Bucky couldn’t even mourn properly, in private, for everything that he’d lost.

He was right in the frelling middle of the public eye.

The amount of sympathy he was getting was both staggering and stomach turning at the same time.

“You know, Thor suggests I marry you myself, and seal our alliance that way,” Loki pointed out, and didn’t even bother with the pretense of ducking when Bucky threw a lamp at his projection. The device went straight through without even a flicker as Loki’s smile waffled between sympathetic and disdainful.

“Yeah?” Bucky sneered. “What good would that do?”

“Aside from the politically obvious -- even you cannot have missed how the galaxy is in turmoil over Stark’s presumed infidelity and capricious behavior -- I can help you forget him,” Loki said. He held out one hand, which might have had more meaning behind it, aside from an empty gesture, if he’d actually been in the room.

“No, you can’t,” Bucky said. He fell onto the bed, letting his head hang down, his hair obscuring his vision. He didn’t want to look at Loki, he didn’t want to see that arrogance, that surety that all Bucky needed was a different warm body. He didn’t. He needed _Tony_.

None of it made any sense, but there was no evidence that anything else had happened, except that Tony had walked out of the meditation room, found a girl that he’d apparently known from Malibu, and gotten on a ship in the port. No one could even tell Bucky what ship, or where it was going, or _why_.

Why?

That was the question. That was what Bucky didn’t understand. Why, why set the whole thing up, why go through the trouble, just to… what? Lose heart at the very last minute? To get cold feet? He thought he’d meant something to Tony, thought he was important. That the political bullshit aside, Tony had _wanted_ to be married.

He wished he could drive Loki away. All he wanted to do was sob out the unfairness of it to the universe, and he couldn’t do that while the courtesan was just frelling _standing there_. Watching.

“Go away,” Bucky told him.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Loki said. The image of him paced around the room, then appeared to sit on the bed next to Bucky. The mattress didn’t move, there was no evidence of a body there at all, except that Loki looked as solid and real as anything. “The situation is dire enough without… your loss complicating the matter. Someone must keep watch on you, and it may as well be me as anyone.”

Bucky swallowed. He wouldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. “What did you plan to do about that?”

“Appeal to your reason, first,” Loki said, and then he gestured. The mattress sunk a few inches and Bucky found himself leaning in toward a warm body. “And, of course, I can be anywhere within mere moments. I will not allow you to harm yourself, my friend.”

“Am I?” There was a faint, cinnamon scent around the man, and Bucky resisted the urge to lean closer, to inhale and to let the pheromones he knew that Loki produced soothe him.

“If you will allow me to be,” Loki said. “I feel for your pain, and wish only to ease it.”

Bucky shuddered, resisting, and then he couldn’t resist any more. He buried his face against Loki’s shoulder and wept.

Bucky’s shipcomm, miraculously undamaged, chirped for attention. He barely heard it, but a moment later, it chirped again. And then again, more urgently.

“The frell?” Bucky pulled back, wiping at his cheeks with the heel of his hand.

He expected Loki to be supercilious, or haughty, somehow, but he wasn’t. He kissed Bucky’s forehead, and then nudged him in the direction of the comm. “Answer your call,” Loki said. “Your fellow midgardians have been concerned for you. Perhaps they feel this is a safe way to express their shared grief.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at that, even when being sympathetic, Loki was still stiff and formal. He picked up the unit and thumbed it. “ _What_?” That came out a little hostile, but what the frell, he was entitled to his anger.

“Bucky!” That was... That was _Tony_. “Don’t hang up, honey, the pictures aren’t real and I’m in serious trouble.” That all came out in one fast rush, barely comprehensible.

“Are you even _frelling_ kidding me right now?” Bucky’s arm drew back, almost of its own volition, the comm unit ready to be the next victim of his temper.

“One moment,” Loki said, putting his hand over Bucky’s fingers. “This may prove invaluable. Stark? Where are you?”

“ _Loki?_ What are you-- Never mind. I’m on a ship, I don’t know which one, about one jump out from Malibu, if they’re telling the truth. They kidnapped me right out of the frelling meditation chamber, and they’re going to sell me back to Obie. I swear to the frelling void I’m telling the truth.”

“Tony, Tony, what, baby, how would they even get to you, this is Asgard!” Bucky went to war with the desperate, terrified hope that blossomed in his chest. “Malibu? _Frell_ , that’s at least four days of jumps from here.”

“Not on my ship,” Loki said. “The _Sleipnir_ has a V’an drive. Can you possibly delay them, Stark? The ripples of your disappearance have been tragic, in more senses than only your bereft lover, here.”

“What’s been-- Dren, I can’t, someone’s going to notice I’m in the comms. Yeah, I can delay things some. How long?”

“We can be in Malibu nearspace in eight hours,” Loki told him. “Can you contact this device again?”

Bucky’s bones went weak and he found himself on the floor suddenly, head spinning and heart aching. “ _Tony_?”

“I’m right here, baby,” Tony said immediately. “I know what you must have thought, they showed me the pictures, and I’m so sorry, I never, I _never_ would have done that. I love you. But I have to go before they find me. Eight hours, I can delay easy. I’ll call again the next time they leave the comms unattended.” The comm click off.

“I-- Tony, I love you, too.” He was talking to empty air. Oh, frelling void, he was going to be sick. Tony was kidnapped. On his way back to Malibu?

“Come. You can fall apart later,” Loki said, nudging him with that damn staff of his.

“We ain’t goin’ alone,” Bucky said. “Don’t know how many of ‘em there are, nor what they got in the way of defenses.”

“Not to mention Malibu is the home of Stark Industries. Your beloved may look beautiful, but much of his work is quite deadly, nonetheless. _Sleipnir_ is swift, but he is not a warship. We shall need a team, and a joint venture, Asgard and Midgard alike. Go to your friends, gather your weapons. Meet me here with what allies you can acquire in less than an hour’s time and we will venture forth.”

“Why are you doing this? Helpin’ us?”

“I have many acquaintances, Master Barnes,” Loki said. “Relations and allies. I have very few friends. Despite what Stark may believe, I consider you both among that number. I have seldom met anyone who does not _want_ something of me. Make of it what you will. But I will see the galaxy burn if someone harms him.”

Bucky blinked. “Okay, then. Half an hour.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

One of these days, Bucky was going to get used to Steve lighting up like the sun whenever Bucky walked in the room. That day, he didn’t frelling have time for it. “Suit up, Rogers,” Bucky told him, barely pausing. “I need your help.”

Steve was already out of his chair and heading for Bucky. “You found him?”

“Got a bead on ‘im,” Bucky said, “yeah.” Bucky was suffering from emotional whiplash, his heart tugged between joy that Tony still loved him, that he hadn’t been frelling abandoned, cast aside, and desperate fear that Tony would be hurt, or worse, before they could get to him. Anything could happen in eight hours; his kidnappers had several days of lead time. He didn’t even want to know if, or what, Tony had _already_ suffered.

“Right,” Steve said, with a sort of fierce battle-joy. “Let’s go kick him right in the balls. You want Clint and Nat, too? Bruce might be compromised; he likes Stark too much for this.”

“What in frell are you talking about?” Bucky demanded. He was already rummaging through Steve’s crap, trying to find his armor, and throwing bits at him. “Someone kidnapped Tony -- they’re takin’ him back to Stark Industries, as an escaped enhancile!”

Steve staggered and nearly tripped over the case of battle armor that Bucky had retrieved from Tony’s things. He might need it. “Wait, what?”

“We’re gonna go rescue him,” Bucky said. “ _Someone took him_. He didn’t leave me, an’ I could jus’ about choke on it that they’ve had him for frelling days, and I’m useless as rot, here. So, get your ass in gear and _help me_ get him back!”

Steve stared at him for a long minute, jaw working as he chewed on that. Bucky could practically _see_ him considering and rejecting arguments as he worked his way around to it. “...Right,” Steve said, after what seemed like an age. “Well. We stand for freeing enhanciles, and like it or not, Tony’s one of ours. Let’s go get him back.”

Assembling the _Avenger_ ’s crew took less long than Bucky might have anticipated. Banner had volunteered before Bucky got more than a few words into the explanation, but added the caution that his help often came at a highly destructive cost, if he was needed for battle. Since Bucky had little to no concern for the likes of people who would harm Tony, he accepted the warning for what it was. “Try an’ keep you to patching skin and settin’ bones, Doc,” he said, “but if we need you?”

“Well, Hulk does like to smash,” Banner said, wiping his glasses off on the edge of his shirt.

Nat and Clint responded to the call from their captain, hardly surprising, with no questions asked. Steve could explain it to them; Bucky was too eager to get frelling moving to linger on the details.

What he was not, at all, expecting, was for the Asgard’s chief security adviser, Heimdall, to protest the attempt.

“You are hardly dressed appropriately for war, my prince,” Heimdall said, eyeing them all with a keen, piercing amber gaze. “And besides, your father has closed the space port. No ships will leave and none will enter Asgard space, until this crisis is resolved.”

“It is in service to this crisis that we are compelled on our journey,” Thor responded, but Bucky noticed he was shifting his grip toward the hilt of his weapon, a plasma discharge blunt weapon. Not Bucky’s preferred sort of thing at all. Knives or projectiles were his favored tools, but each man to his own, Bucky supposed.

On the other hand, open melee in the space port was going to draw attention, and if the AllFather had decreed it closed, fighting the whole of Asgard was not what Bucky had in mind.

“Look, we know how to _end_ this mess,” Steve said. “All you have to do is let us go and get Tony and bring him back!”

There was a soft noise from the back of the group, like Bruce had coughed.

“It is treason for me to disobey the orders of my sworn king,” Heimdall said. “Be reasonable. Go to your father, convince him of the need, and I shall be happy to let you pass.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Bucky exploded. “They’re practically in Malibu space by now. We need t’ leave!”

Clint and Nat exchanged a look. Clint looked like he wanted to argue, and then he deflated. “Tony better not be jerking your chain,” he told Bucky. Then, as one, he and Natasha launched themselves at Heimdall.

“Get moving, hazmots!” Nat snarled, even as she kicked out at Heimdall’s knee, dodging his swinging fist. “I don’t know how long we can hold him!”

“We are going to be in a dreadful amount of trouble,” Loki said. “Gather close, and I will shield us.”

“Father is going to enjoy every moment of the story, when we tell it,” Thor assured him, whirling his hammer joyfully, spreading a blanket of pure plasma over Loki’s protective dome, pretty much guaranteeing that only an absolute idiot would try to attack them.

Unfortunately, Asgard had its share of absolute idiots, and there were not a few injuries as they pushed toward Loki’s ship.

“Why can’t you just teleport onto your own--” Bucky took a shot. It wouldn’t do any good, Asgard armor was thick, but it knocked the man over for a moment, letting them get past him “--ship? Somehow that seems like it might be a frelling good idea!”

“I needn’t explain particle physics to you whilst in the middle of battle,” Loki snapped. He gestured and a pair of guards suddenly appeared to go blind. “Ask me later if you should like being in the middle of a geothermal event when the V’an drive goes off.”

“Truly, brother,” Thor said, “You lack a sense of adventure.”

Loki threw himself into the pilot’s chair as soon as they boarded the Sleipnir, punching the engines up. “Good thing I keep to a hot pad,” he said, fingers dancing over the solid light display. “Imagine if we had to hold them off while I went from a cold board.”

“I don’t think we killed anyone,” Banner reported, peering out the blast glass portal on the side of Loki’s ship.

“Good,” Steve said, tucking his shield away. “We don’t want to alienate them completely. We still have to come back for Clint and Nat.” He turned to Bucky. “What do we know?”

“Sit down and strap in, we’ll be going to FTL as soon as we’re out of the atmosphere,” Loki told them.

The comm unit flickered, blinked, and came on. Asgard’s queen -- an austere woman with brilliant platinum hair and a green dress -- frowned gently at them. “Loki, what are you doing?”

“Busy right now, Mother,” Loki said, through clenched teeth.

Steve, who as always was ignoring strapdown requirements until the last possible second, stepped up behind Loki’s chair. “We’re going to rescue Tony, ma’am,” he said, in his politest take-no-prisoners tones. “Seeing as how he was kidnapped right off of Asgard in the middle of his meditation, I’d think Asgard would be a little more eager to help us out. Thor and Loki aside, of course.”

Queen Frigga straightened up, and Bucky could have sworn he saw a glint of pride in her eyes. “I will, therefore, excuse you from our lessons this evening?”

“Thank you, Mother,” Loki said. “I shall speak with you soon, of course.”

Frigga bowed, her image distorting for a moment, then vanishing entirely as Loki slapped the comm unit off. “ _Sit down_ , Captain.”

The belt on Steve’s chair was barely in place before Loki shoved the lever forward. The entire ship shuddered for a moment and space disappeared. Not like the bluelight after-reflections that Bucky was used to, but into a colorful, swirling tube. It was dizzying to look at, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“Frell, Tony’d love to see this,” Bucky murmured, his hands clenching down on the arms of his seat until the metal creaked alarmingly.

“Behold, the marvel that is a V’an drive,” Loki said. “More than ten times faster than midgard’s BEHS drives, and with more accurate space-matter maps, we can cut our time even finer. Without knowing Stark’s precise location, I have arranged to put us out near Malibu’s third moon, a tidy and remote location with no stations, given its geological instability. It is unlikely we will draw attention from there. We may even beat them to real space, giving us time to plot their most likely whereabouts.”

Steve nodded. “Time to make up our plan of attack, then.”

“I don’t know much,” Bucky admitted. “Tony barely had time to talk, while they were in realspace. He said he’d delay the ship as much as he could. And that he was one jump from Malibu’s space lanes. I can’t even calculate, I don’t know what drive’s on the ship, or its mass, or anythin’. Frell, it could be a damn trap, but I don’t think he’d tell me-- I don’t think someone faking a distress call would have said the things he said.” He looked from Steve to Bruce, from Thor to Loki. “Thank you, all of you, for comin’ to our aid.”

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “To the end of the line, pal.”

Bruce, staring raptly at the colors outside the ship, murmured, “And maybe a little bit past it.”

***

Tony had to dump his tech trance quickly when he heard the bolt to his door open. It was painful to drop it all that fast, but he couldn’t let them catch him with glowing gold eyes, or they’d know he was up to something.

“Mr. Stark,” Sunset said sweetly. “I’m _so_ sorry for the delay, but we’ve had a minor hiccup with the jump drive. We’ll be on our way as soon as we get it fixed.”

Since Tony had been the one to introduce the errors into the navigational system, he wasn’t surprised. He smirked at Sunset. “Bain drives aren’t as great as all that, I guess.”

Her smile never wavered. “But since we’re stuck for a few more hours, someone wanted to come and see you right away.” She stepped aside to reveal...

Obie. Of course.

“It’s so nice to have someone care about you like that,” Sunset said. “You two have a nice chat, now.” She left, closing the door behind her.

“Tony,” Obie said. “My boy. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” Tony said. “Did you move into my house, or just have it demolished?”

“It’s a posh place,” Obie agreed. “Too nice to just tear down. The Board agreed, as the rightful head of Stark Industries, I should have it.”

“The Board does what you tell it to do,” Tony snarled.

“Not always. Sometimes they take a little convincing. It’s important to have a firm hand with the Board. Luckily, you won’t have to worry about that, now. Isn’t that nice? I’ve taken that worry off your hands.”

“By trying to have me killed? Hard to be grateful for that.”

“Yes, that was a mistake,” Obie said.

“You admit it?”

Obie spread his hands. “Of course after you were kidnapped and forcibly enhanced I had to try to convince them to kill you. It wouldn’t do for an SI enhancile to fall into the wrong hands. Bad for business.”

So _that_ was the story Obie was spinning.

“But rumor has it, you managed to locate Maya Hanson and perfect the Extremis bundle,” Obie said. He wasn’t actually rubbing his hands together with glee or twirling his mustache like a cartoon villain, but it wasn’t hard to imagine, either. “Guess you had one last golden egg for us, eh, Tony?”

“You’re going to kill me as soon as you get your hands on me,” Tony said.

“If you won’t give us the perfected Extremis formulas any other way,” Obie said, imminently reasonable. “Don’t make this all about you, Tony. Enough damage has already been done. You need to let this thing go. Stark Industries has always been very generous to its enhanciles. That could be you, if you’d just play along.”

“Go away, Obie,” Tony said. “Frell off.”

Obie chuckled. “Same old Tony,” he said. “All right. We can do this the other way, then.” A piercing whine filled the air, and Tony couldn’t move. Couldn’t even roll his eyes. Obie leaned in close, filling Tony’s vision. “Don’t know if you remember this little gem,” he said, showing Tony the sonic paralyzer. “Impractical for our usual situations, but fascinating, nonetheless.”

He lifted Tony’s shirt, carefully, and his eyes shone as he eyed the arc reactor. “Forget Extremis,” Obie said. “This is your magnum opus. Do you know how much of a game changer this is for the weapons industry? Miniaturized arc reactors could spell the end of the need for enhanciles altogether.” He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket, as if Tony’s skin was something contaminated that he couldn’t bring himself to touch. He gently twisted the arc reactor free of Tony’s chest. “Oh, we’ll take the Extremis, too,” he said, “but we’ll just bleed our samples from your body.”

Tony fell to the floor, and Obie stepped over him to leave.

Tony could feel his heart stuttering, could feel Extremis rushing to the site to keep it pumping.

_Call Bucky_ , he thought, and tried to focus -- but Extremis resisted him. Every available bit of it was working furiously just to keep Tony alive. There wasn’t enough left to establish a resonance.

And if he couldn’t go back into the tech trance, then he had to hope the delays he’d already pushed into the system were enough.

_Hurry, Bucky_.


	10. Chapter 10

“That seemed too easy,” Bruce said, staring at the near-space chart, where the Bain Industries vessel hung, motionless, against a sea of black. A posh shuttle with SI’s markings was in orbit around the larger ship. “Did that seem too easy to anyone else?”

Bucky didn’t acknowledge that, studying the tactical displays. According to _Sleipnir_ ’s scanners, the ship was apparently suffering from cascading systems failure. Nothing that affected life support or gravity, but the sub-light thrusters were out, the FTL drive was out, and there were random system glitches being reported on all levels.

Including, unfortunately, the heating systems, which meant it was nearly impossible to get an accurate lifeforms count. There could be anywhere from six people onboard to seventy. Even the Asgardian tech couldn’t sort it out. _Damn it, Tony_.

“Of course my ship possesses superior stealth capability,” Loki said. “If their systems can detect us at all, we doubtless look like one more ghost on their array. I anticipate no difficulty attaching to their docking port and... encouraging a successful link.”

Bucky wanted to just reach out and grab Tony from them, as if he could pluck the man directly from the charts. _Please, baby, just be here._

“Let’s get to it, then,” Steve said, slinging his shield onto the magnetic harness on his back. Bucky almost smiled at that; back when they were in the 107th together, Steve and his little turtle outline had led Bucky into battle on dozens of worlds, hundreds of missions. Before… well, before.

“Still followin’ you, Captain,” Bucky said, giving Steve a smart-ass little salute.

_Sleipnir_ crept closer to the Bain ship, and closer still, vectors aligning with a deft hand that Bucky’s pilot brain appreciated as elegant. When their outer hatch aligned with Bain’s, the two doors mated without even a bump, perfectly matched.

They all followed Loki into the airlock, where it was too crowded to see how he finessed the other ship’s locks, but after only a few moments, the hatch slid open with a soft hiss of equalizing pressure.

“Who’s familiar with the layout on these ships?” Steve asked softly. “Where are they most likely to be holding Tony?”

Bucky considered his missions, then locked onto one, an involuntary recruitment of a scientist that was developing an anti-enhancile weapon that could potentially neutralize the nanites in the blood -- the development had been bunk, but the scientist had been employed by Bain Industries. Bucky had been on one of these ships before. “Second and third deck are customizable in the layouts. Any prisoner holding cells would most likely be there, assuming they didn’t stuff him in a cargo hold.” He gave Steve a significant glower.

“The _Avenger_ doesn’t have any holding cells,” Steve protested. “We had to improvise.” He started moving down the corridor toward the transport tubes they could see. “Maybe we should split up,” he suggested. “Two groups are likely to find Tony faster than one. We’ll want to be fast; glitches or not, eventually someone’s going to come along and _see_ there’s another boat locked on.”

“Not to mention the hazards of attempting to calculate FTL with improper mass ratios,” Loki said, raising a delicate eyebrow.

“Where is everyone?” Bruce said. “This is a big ship, they should have some crew, shouldn’t they?” His tone wobbled uncertainly, looking around as if expecting a whole mob of enemies to suddenly appear.

“You, my friend,” Thor said, clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “worry too much. I have yet to encounter any group of Midgardians that did not tremble and fall beneath my prowess.”

“Well, someone ought to worry,” Bruce muttered, resentfully. “We’re in a situation here that’s entirely designed to stress me out. That’s not a good plan, at all.”

“All right,” Steve said. “Bruce, Bucky, you two come with me; we’ll take the third level. Thor, Loki, try the second.”

The elevators were at the end of the central corridor. They passed a dozen access tubes on the way, crew quarters, engineering, medical.

There were still no crew members. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was catching Bruce’s paranoia or what, but the lack of other people on the ship was disconcerting at the very least. He thumbed the summon for the elevator when there was a brief crackle and the in-ship came on with a dull whump.

“ _Longing_.”

Bucky stopped moving, his hand still held out from where he’d thumbed the button, like he’d been flash frozen. His breathing sped, his heart rate slowed. His mouth flooded with saliva that tasted like ozone and fear.

“What was that?” Bruce asked.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice echoed, like it was coming from a long way away.

“ _Rusted_.”

_Steve._ Bucky tried to speak, couldn’t manage it. He took another breath, his spine going ramrod stiff. “... run.”

“ _Furnace_.”

“Oh, shit,” Steve said. “His command codes. They know his-- How did they get his command codes?” He wasn’t running, frell it! “Come on, Bucky, you can fight this off!”

“Command codes?” Loki demanded. “What _command codes_?”

“Hydra, when they had him, they...” Steve trailed off.

“ _Daybreak_.”

“... can’t. Steve.” Bucky stared down at his hands, the way his fingers were flexing, curling into murderous fists, the fingernails on his right hand biting into his palm, the sizzle of pain as he started to bleed, the itch of his serum as he regenerated. “... go. You have to go.” He tried to raise his hands, to clamp them over his ears, to unhear what he was hearing, but he couldn’t. He could not. He…

“I mislike the look of this,” Thor rumbled. He raised his ion displacement weapon and shorted out the in-ship speaker.

“ _Seventeen. Benign_.” Bucky turned his head, following the sounds; there were speakers in every corridor. He took a few steps toward the source of the words.

“Fight it!” Steve begged.

“Someone might have mentioned that he was still enthralled to me when I could have _done something about it_ ,” Loki said, and Bucky stared at him. He’d thought the man pretty, before, but couldn’t recall why he thought that.

The chemical soup in his blood changed, from terror to calm, from fear and sorrow and heartbreak to unconcern. He turned his head and looked; the man to his right was familiar, but fading. He couldn’t… quite… reach. Something. He wanted to say something. What was it? Words tickled at the back of his throat.

“Um, Steve,” the other man said, reaching out to pluck at his companion’s sleeve. “Maybe you should back away.”

“I can’t just _leave_ him,” said the familiar man. He looked anguished. “Dren it, we need Tony! He knows Bucky’s sleep code!”

“...run.”

The Asset’s fingers twitched. His fists relaxed and he went pliant, unresisting. His head swiveled to track the source of his words. He… he was _home_.

The rest of his command codes were spoken, his handler unseen, but waiting.

“ _Ready to comply_.”

“Kill the intruders.”

The Asset’s gun was in his hand in the blink of an eye.

Analysis patterns ran; evaluating the combat variables. The blond, familiar man took an elbow to the face, dropping to the deck before the Asset squeezed the trigger, multiple times, unloading a dozen blasts into the warrior with the ion weapon.

“Bucky, stop!” entreated the blond man, clambering to his feet. An enhancile, then.

The lift door opened. “Steve, come on,” said the lesser threat. “We have to find Tony. He can stop this!”

“Come then,” bellowed the warrior. “You wish to dance?!” Not noticeably slowed by the multiple direct hits, the warrior whirled his weapon into life.

The Asset didn’t hesitate. The warrior and his smaller shadow were the highest threat, with their superior technology. He could track the others to their hiding places, if need be. They were ship-bound. There was no escape.

He lowered one shoulder and charged, the artificial limb stretching out, reaching for the ion weapon. Lightning crackled in the air around them, followed by the rolling boom of thunder. Sparks flew from the Asset’s fingertips as he made contact--

The weapon threw him backward, head over heels, tumbling down the corridor. He lay a moment, motionless, on the floor.

A challenge.

The Asset fired off several more rounds toward the fleeing enemies in the elevator before the doors closed behind them. If he struck one of them, it was by chance alone. The slender man gestured with his staff; a blurry shock-shield formed between the Asset and those fleeing, slowing the blaster fire from his weapon. Deflected. The Asset did not allow himself to smile, but instead turned his weapon, calculating the angles.

The shield caught his round, bounced and amplified it, and the ricochet took the warrior in a weak chink in his armor, just at the base of his neck, under the helmet.

“Thor! Brother!”

***

Tony paced the narrow confines of his cell, torn between hope and despair. He’d heard the words, seemingly random, and recognized them. Bucky’s command codes. Which meant Bucky was _on the ship_... But probably not in command of himself.

Dren it, what was happening out there? Tony pounded on the stubborn hatch, desperate. He could shut Bucky down, if only he could get within hearing! But he was stuck here, helpless, with no idea what was going on.

How had Obie gotten Bucky’s command codes, anyway? Was he allied with Hydra? Working for them? One of them all along?

To frell with everything, _what was going on out there?_ Tony pounded on the hatch agan. “Let me out of here, you unspeakable hazmot!”

The hatch slid away. “Nice to see you, too, Tony,” Bruce said, mildly. Bruce was… a sight for sore eyes. Gloriously unflappable, tousle-haired and slump shouldered. A friend.

Tony stumbled out, caught by surprise. “Bruce!” Tony gasped, hope surging. “And... Cap?” Of all the people that Tony might have thought would even try to come to his rescue, Cap was not on the list. Well, maybe all the way down at the bottom.

Steve scowled. “Reunions later,” he snapped. “Bucky’s in trouble.” Because of course. Cap came because of Bucky. Which, whatever, fine, Tony would totally take it, because he was in trouble, and apparently Bucky was in trouble, and that was just business as usual.

“Um, Tony?” Bruce poked a finger at Tony’s sternum, touching the torn shirt gingerly. “Are you all right? How are you even still alive? Where’s your _arc-reactor_?”

“Obie took it,” Tony said. “He probably thinks I’m dead now, because he doesn’t know the Extremis I’ve got is a more advanced version than the official one. Where’s Bucky?”

“Chasing Thor and Loki,” Bruce explained. “He went berserk.”

Steve held out one hand, showing blood from a wound. “After he shot at us. They told him to kill all of us. You’ve gotta help him.”

“Cap, one problem at a time, if you don’t mind.” Bruce gently peeled back Tony’s shirt to look at the gaping hole in the middle of Tony’s chest. He touched two fingers to Tony’s wrist while peering in his eyes, oddly unruffled despite the urgency of the situation, but firm, resisting all of Tony’s attempts to pull away. “Where might I find this Obie of yours? You need your reactor back; your pulse is erratic and your eyes are dilated.”

Tony spread his hands. “I’ve been locked in there the whole time,” he told Bruce. “If I had to guess, though, he probably took it to his materials workshop. First level, back corridor. Can you find it? I have to help Bucky.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Bruce promised. He reached around Steve and plucked a stunner from the captain’s belt. “At least if I have to fight, I already know the Big Guy is fond of you. He’ll come for you, no matter what.” That was heartwarming, at least. Although Tony didn’t really need any more stress on his heart right now. The Extremis was making him hungry and exhausted. There wasn’t much time left before even his enhancements gave out, his heart stopped working, and Tony dropped over dead without ever seeing Bucky again.

He watched Bruce retreat down the corridor, then looked at Steve. “Okay, Cap. Lead the way.”

Steve’s jaw worked, and his eyes lingered on the gaping hole in Tony’s chest. Tony pulled his shirt over it. “C’mon, Cap. We need to save Bucky before he does something he’ll really regret.”

That seemed to snap Steve out of it. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.” He strode back toward the elevator, Tony close on his heels.

Tony could hear the altercation on the first level before the elevator even stopped moving. Shouting, and the high-pitched crackle of Thor’s ion displacer. It wasn’t enough to prepare him for the chaos that the doors opened onto.

Bucky’s back was to the elevator, and past him, Thor leaned heavily on one wall, spinning his weapon to turn it into a shield over him and his brother. Loki was shooting some kind of energy weapon at Bucky, but Bucky blocked every blast with the metal arm -- it was charred and smoking, but still functional. Bucky’s every shot was blocked by the ion shield. Stalemate, but neither side was giving up.

Tony’s heart leapt into his throat. “Bucky!” he yelled. “Sputnik!”

Bucky paused, but didn’t fall. He turned to face Tony and Steve with a sneer. “Did you think I would accept a command code from my _target?_ ” he demanded. He lifted his gun and shot, faster than Tony could react.

It pinged off Steve’s shield before Tony even saw Steve move to block it. “Bucky, you don’t want to hurt us,” Steve said, voice low and soothing.

Tony was in shock. The sleep command had always worked before, but apparently it was nullified by the completed compliance codes. How did they stop him now?

Bucky ignored Steve’s words and charged. Rather than dodge, Steve met him head on. It was a mistake. Both men were fast, but Bucky was just a little faster. He threw Steve off, denting the wall where Steve collided. He raised his gun at Tony again.

“Bucky,” Tony pleaded. “You don’t want to do this. I’m your _husband_.”

“You’re my mission,” Bucky snarled. He swung at Tony, and Tony barely ducked in time.

“Anthony, here!” called Thor. Loki beckoned frantically.

Tony didn’t have time to strategize; he ran for the Asgardians as fast as he could, not daring to look behind him. He could practically feel Bucky’s breath on his neck.

Thor dropped the shield as Tony approached. Tony was inches away from Thor’s outstretched hand when Bucky tackled him, throwing them both to the floor. The impact jarred the empty casing in Tony’s chest, shooting pain through his whole torso. He covered his head with his arms, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.


	11. Chapter 11

The blow he expected never fell. After several long seconds, Tony looked up.

Loki had reached out with his weapon, and for a terrifying moment, Tony thought Loki had stabbed Bucky through the heart. But the weapon’s tip was merely resting against Bucky’s chest. Bucky was frozen, his normally steel-gray eyes glowing with a soft blue light.

“You have a heart,” Loki murmured. He lowered the weapon, his beautiful face lined with misery. “I am heartily sorry to do this to you, my friend,” he told Bucky. “But I could not let you destroy the man you love. That is not a wound you can heal.”

“What... What happened?” Tony wondered.

Loki grimaced in distaste, and twisted the weapon in his hands. “It is an attack of last resort, the robbing of a person’s will, and placing them under my own thrall. I have not been forced to use it for many years.”

Asgardian years or standard years? Tony wondered irrelevantly. “Oh,” was all he managed out loud. Bucky still didn’t seem to recognize him, or any of them, but at least he wasn’t attacking anymore.

“My brother is sorely injured,” Loki said, his green eyes going soft as he turned to indicate Thor. “We must retreat, and that with all due haste. Where is Banner?”

Bucky took up a position behind Loki and to the side, shadowing him as he had shadowed Tony many times before, and Tony would be lying to himself if he refused to admit that it hurt. Only that eerie blue glow in Bucky’s eyes kept it from being out and out jealousy. “They will send reinforcements,” Bucky said. His regular speaking voice, not the jagged tones of the Winter Soldier, but as if Loki had suddenly become his bright center. “They’re watchin’ us, soon as you did that. We ain’t gonna make it outta here, ‘less we go, _now_.”

“I’m not going to make it back to Asgard alive unless Bruce gets back with my arc reactor,” Tony countered. He put his hand over his chest. “I’m pushing my enhancements to the limit as it is.” He stumbled back down the hall and rolled Steve over, checking for signs of life. “We should probably move toward the exit, at least,” he said. “Bucky, can you--” His lips thinned. “Loki, please ask Bucky to come carry Steve for us.”

Bucky’s brilliant blue gaze shifted from Loki, to Tony, to Steve, and back to Loki. “Dead weight, sir,” he reported, scathing. “Leave them. We should go.”

Loki shook his head, very gently, as if speaking with an extremely young child. “Please, my friend, if you will, bring the injured. My brother has need of the healing devices in our ship, but I can manage to carry him, if I must. Help our companions. We are either all of us leaving here, or none.”

Bucky made a noise, some noise, like he was disgusted, and then leaned over, slinging Steve over one shoulder with ill grace. “I need’t carry you, too, or can you walk on your own?” He directed that flat, ugly look at Tony, resentful of every moment that _Loki_ was in danger.

God, that hurt. Tony tried to remind himself that Bucky didn’t even know who he was, at the moment. “I can walk,” he managed. He could make it back to their ship. Beyond that, without Bruce and the arc reactor, he didn’t know. He could practically feel Extremis stuttering inside him, running out of fuel.

Thor was staggering more and more, with each step, the normal, jovial expression he wore fading into pain and exhaustion. Tony fell behind a step and saw; a horrible, scorched mess of hair and flesh and muscle burned all the way to the bone, exposing nerves. Cauterized, but somehow that was almost worse, as if a torrent of blood could have hidden the hideous mess.

The whole ship suddenly rocked, artificial gravity throwing them from one side of the corridor to the other. The connection between the Bain ship and _Sleipnir_ screamed with twisting metal.

“What th’ frell was that?” Bucky demanded. He didn’t pause to look around, merely got his free arm under Thor and helped Loki move him along a little faster. Each stride taking him further and further away from Tony, who struggled to keep up, air aching inside his chest.

Where the frell was Bruce? Was he the one who’d caused that violent shake? _Brucie, c’mon, hurry up,_ Tony begged. He leaned a hand on the wall and staggered another few steps down the corridor. Another shake like that, and the _Sleipnir_ might disengage entirely, leaving them stranded.

The ship shook and rattled, lights flickering, throwing shadows everywhere. A moment later, the whole corridor split practically in half as the ceiling was torn asunder. Two forms, struggling, fell through the hole. One green and enormous and almost naked, tearing at the--

_Frelling void_ , was that one of Tony’s original battle armors?

“ **HULK SMASH**!” Monstrous green fists beat at the armor.

The pilot’s metal legs spread, clamps digging into the floor, holding itself between Bruce and the others, pushing the Hulk backward. The pilot raised an enormous fist, smashing at the Hulk with a propulsion cannon.

“Tony, my boy,” a voice boomed from inside the armor. “Surprised you lived this long, but I’ll fix that, as soon as I take care of this --” _punch_ “--little--” The arm jackhammered, delivering repeated blows to Hulk’s face. “--problem. Thirty years, I’ve held you up, held this company up, and nothing is going to take that away from me. Not now.”

“Everyone get to the ship, _now_ ,” Tony commanded, half-crawling down the corridor himself. “ _Go._ ” He tried to get to his feet, but the shaking caused by Hulk and Obie fighting made the floor too unstable for Tony’s weakening legs. “Hulk, tell me you brought me a present,” he begged.

Hulk’s head snapped up. He glared at the thing that was Obadiah Stane, then spat out a huge molar, nearly the size of Tony’s fist. “ **CATCH** ,” he told Tony and threw something glittering and blue over Obie’s shoulder, spinning in midair, a beautiful, life-saving arc.

Obie tried to grab for it, but the battlesuit was clunky and too slow for Hulk’s throw. Tony reached out for it with both hands and caught it, humming and warm and undamaged. Tony yanked up his shirt and jammed the arc reactor home, twisting it into place with a gasp of near-pain as the energy surged through him.

Extremis leapt to life, redoubling its efforts at rebuilding his torn and worn tissues. Tony bit down on a whimper at the pins-and-needles sensation of it, and then closed his eyes. He couldn’t help Bruce like this, but if he could drop into a tech trance, now that he had power again...

The ship’s systems sparked into life around him. Tony reached out and sealed two doors, locking Ty Stone and Sunset Bain away so they couldn’t come to Obie’s aid. Then he went searching. There had to be something he could do, some way to turn the tide--

A familiar ping of greeting skated across his consciousness. Tony looked, and nearly wept with relief: Bucky had thought to bring his new armor. He opened one eye -- yes, the door to the Asgardian ship remained open. _Come to me_ , he thought, and his armor freed itself from its casing and launched toward him.

The armor wrapped around him, sealing him in its deadly cocoon. He spared one glance toward the others -- Loki was helping Thor into the ship, Bucky with Steve just behind them. Good. Tony turned back to the ongoing fight. _Nothing like a field test_ , he thought, and joined the fray.

Obie’s armor was sparking, leaking pneumatic fluid on one side, but still in the fight. He swung, a huge, roundhouse blow that knocked Hulk back again, driving him away from the airlock -- not, quite frankly, that Hulk would fit in the airlock as he was. Obie’s suit was enormous, at least twelve feet tall, out-massing Tony’s by at least fifty percent.

“Download complete, and I must say, it’s good to see you again, sir,” JARVIS said, and the entire HUD came online. JARVIS barely got his greetings out before Obie’s armor lashed out, smashing Tony through the corridor wall and into the room beyond, some sort of computer bank storage --secondary power conduits, Extremis indicated, helpfully -- and through that wall as well, ending with Tony rattled up against the hull. Frelling void, how much power did that damn suit have?

“Give it up, Obie,” Tony said, climbing to his feet. “You can’t beat both of us!”

The battle armor tore through the conduit room, Obie clawing through computer systems and walls like some ancient monster stomping through a city block. “If I live long enough to kill you,” he roared, “I’ll count it a life well spent, you--”

Obie’s armor knocked Tony off his feet again, and then he was nearly crushed by a massive leg, pushing against the chestplate of his own armor.

“ **HULK SMASH**!” The weight vanished as Obie’s armor went flying backward, snagged by a green hand and thrown like a child’s toy. “ **TIN MAN HURT**?”

“I’m okay,” Tony coughed. “Just taking a while to get all the systems online.” Extremis kept dropping Tony out of his tech trance to go do something it considered more important, like healing him. Damn it, wrong priorities! But nanites didn’t care about the urgency of the moment.

“Sir, I am getting a communication from the Asgardian vessel, _Sleipnir_ ,” JARVIS reported. “A Loki Odinson wishes you to get your, and I must quote, _pretty little ass,_ on his ship, now.”

“Little occupied right now,” Tony bit out. “We can’t leave without Bruce.” He pushed up and dove back into the fight. He landed on the back of Obie’s battle armor and pried at the plating. “Hm, these wires look important,” he mused aloud, and ripped them out.

Obie activated the pummeling mechanism again, ripping into Tony like a jackhammer, each blow hard and fast. Extremis chose exactly the wrong moment to mend a microgash in Tony’s aortic artery, which managed to shut down the enhanced vision the suit had, shutting him in darkness. The suit turned from a tool into Tony’s own coffin and he was battered and thrown without knowing which way he was going, or even why. Beyond the sounds of the suit crunching, the blows being rained down on him, he could hear Hulk roaring with fury.

The HUD flickered, came back on. Just in time for Tony to catch a handful of that damn pummeler again.

Tony tried to dodge it, managed to squirm out from under, only to have Obie catch his leg and drag him back. “This is _my company_ ,” Obie snarled. “I won’t have you interfering!”

“Like you’re letting Hydra interfere?” Tony demanded, kicking out. “What did you have to promise them to get Bucky’s command codes? How much of your worthless black soul did you sell to Hydra? How much of _my company_ did you sell them?”

“It’s not your company!” Obie snapped. “You don’t own anything. With this suit, and your arc-reactor, I will be a god.” He reached down, wrenching at the front of Tony’s suit, trying to claw out the reactor. Warnings of all colors and sounds flashed across the HUD, a cacophony of alarm.

Obie vanished. Which was nice, always good to have an interruption of annoying, monomaniacal villain monologuing.

“ **PUNY GOD**.” Hulk brushed his hands off as if he’d just taken out the trash. The armor smashed into the hull.

And then the hull gave way behind it, sending Obie tumbling into space.

Safety lights flared, hatches shut as the ship depressurized, and an emergency bulkhead slammed down, sealing the breach off from the rest of the ship.

Too bad Tony and Hulk were on the wrong side of that bulkhead.

***

Bucky had been locked away from his own body for decades; been operating under Hydra’s guidance for seventy years, and never had he been so gorram aware of it. Never had he been locked inside a closet, watching as his body did and said things that had nothing to do with what he wanted, with the things that he knew, with the things that he would have done.

Before he’d been woken on the Avenger, he’d barely had moments of fleeting awareness, and usually those were so muddled and confused that he’d retreated into his Winter Soldier programming without a whimper, just to keep the thoughts in his head from strangling him.

This time, he’d been shoved aside, utterly and completely.

One moment, he was the Winter Soldier, operating under normal parameters and within all proper protocols, the next moment, he was Bucky Barnes.

But he was Bucky Barnes, trapped like a gorram hitchhiker in his _own frelling body_.

He couldn’t even look where he wanted to look.

His chest was breathing, but every time Bucky wanted to gasp, needed to draw a breath, needed to scream, _he couldn’t do it_.

This… other thing, this other awareness, had shoved him aside and all he could do was watch, helplessly.

He could only touch it, around the edges.

The Winter Soldier felt nothing; he didn’t love his handlers, didn’t worship his masters, didn’t feel loyalty. Or fear. Or anger. He simply obeyed. All of Bucky’s skills -- the Winter Soldier’s skills -- were at his disposal, but he didn’t feel regret. Or memory. Or pity. He did what he needed to do for the mission.

This thing… _loved_ Loki.

It was like a whole separate being had been stored inside that staff and as soon as it touched him, it filled him up like a balloon until what made Bucky Barnes himself was smashed into the very edges, and… this other thing had taken over.

It _worshipped_ Loki. Viewed him like a combination parent and god, lover and brother. The bright center of the universe.

And it had some awareness of Bucky, knew the things that Bucky knew.

Knew that Bucky loved Tony and seethed with jealous hatred over that love. Wanted to displace it, destroy it. It used Bucky’s mouth and words to spurn Tony, to hurt him. Let Bucky watch as Tony’s mobile, beautiful face went slack with pain.

_NO, no, no, Tony, that’s not me, that’s not..._

The thing that wasn’t Bucky Barnes slung Steve over his shoulder in obedience to his master and followed Loki onto the ship.

“Leave them behind,” that thing that wasn’t Bucky recommended. “We don’t need them.”

“I shall not leave,” Loki said. He dragged his brother, nearly comatose, toward the medical bay. “Bring Rogers, then we shall return for them. We will not leave without what we came for, and what we came for was Anthony Stark.”

The thing that wasn’t Bucky snarled, but had to obey. All it existed for was to make Loki happy. It would do its duty.

Loki got his brother settled in the healer and touched the panel. Thor disappeared behind a wall of healing mist, sealed inside the chamber. “Strap Rogers here, we’ll see to him when we’re safely away.” Loki raised his face toward the ship’s ceiling, each line of his features beautiful, and Bucky was nearly overwhelmed by the love that the thing that wasn’t Bucky had.

The ship shook and rattled, nearly throwing him off his feet.

“Stark, get your pretty little ass on my ship, now!”

The thing that wasn’t Bucky howled in pain, knowing… knowing, that his master, his sun, his center, cared so much about something -- someone -- else. Inside, in the dark corner where Bucky remained, clinging to awareness by his frelling fingertips -- rejoiced. Loki wouldn’t let Tony be hurt. Loki would--

The thing that wasn’t Bucky pushed at him, squeezing, forcing him back, even further.

_No. I won’t leave. This is my body!_

**GO AWAY**!

_Go get him. Loki wants Tony. You know it, I know it. Go get him, please, go get him. It’ll make Loki happy, go get him and I’ll do anything you want._

The thing that wasn’t Bucky staggered, headed for the pilot’s chair, headed for his master.

The ship rocked again, artificial gravity tipping them from one side to the other.

“I have to break away, hold on,” Loki snapped, and the faint hiss of the air equalizing was too loud.

_No, no, Tony’s still on that--_

He made the front of the ship, stared out the view screen as the side of the Bain Ship ruptured, sending debris everywhere, venting atmo like a teakettle.

The side of the ship tore open and three human-shaped figures tumbled into the vacuum of space.

“ _No_!” Bucky shoved with everything in him, pushing, stabbing, clawing at the thing inside him that wasn’t him, desperate to do something, anything! “ _No, no, no, Tony, no_!”

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Vacuum seals engaged and holding,” JARVIS reported. “Oxygen at 70%.”

Tony was staring at Obie. The enormous battle armor was flailing as Obie tried to maneuver back to the ship, but Tony could see the good air leaking out of it from at least three points, a pale fog where the water vapor froze as it exited the suit. The suit had never been vacuum-ready, and it had been cracked and damaged in the fight with the Hulk. He wouldn’t last another minute out here.

The Hulk! Oh, frell, Bruce, poor Bruce... Tony spun around and spotted the Hulk, curled into a tiny ball, floating nearby. “Bruce, oh, dren it.” Tony’s voice cracked.

He changed vectors and caught up with the Hulk, catching the huge creature by one enormous finger. “Come on,” he said, stupidly. “I’m not leaving you here. We’ll get you a proper burial, if nothing else.”

“Anthony,” a voice crackled in his helmet, “are you receiving?” Loki, whose ship flipped nose over tail and was now facing him.

_Crying in zero-g is a bad idea, don’t do it_ , he reminded himself. “I’m here,” he returned. “We could use a pickup, if you’ve got a bay door big enough for Hulk’s...” _Body_. “...bulk.”

“It is not ideal, Sleipnir is not made for carrying cargo, but entrance through engineering should have enough headroom for you both. Hold there, I believe I am the more maneuverable, at this point. While I get into position, please have a word with your mate. He is about to drive me to do something drastic.”

The speaker in Tony’s helmet crackled, then… “Tony?” a desperate, nearly broken voice, choked out.

“Bucky?” Relief flooded Tony like the warmth of the sun. “Is it really you?”

“Oh, frell me dead,” Bucky said, and he was sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t… I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry…”

The ship angled and hovered directly over them, a hatch to engineering opened up. Yellow alarm lights went off as the door opened the entire way, wide enough to have moved the drive in wholesale, certainly wide enough for the Hulk and the tiny man in a can who was attached to him.

“It’s okay, honey,” Tony said, letting the connection with Bucky soothe some of the grief he felt for Bruce as he carefully maneuvered the Hulk into the engineering bay. “It’s okay, we’re all right. I’ll be back with you in just a couple of minutes.” Just as soon as he could get the Hulk settled.

The bay doors closed and artificial gravity returned to engineering, letting them down to the floor with exquisite gentleness.

There was a gush and a breeze fluttered Hulk’s black hair as air pressure was restored.

Tony let go of Hulk’s finger and instead patted the enormous arm. “I’m... gonna miss you, big guy.” He still felt numb. Later, he knew, he would rage and weep and wonder why it had to be Bruce instead of him. It should have been him. If he hadn’t sent Bruce alone in search of his arc reactor...

One sizable green eye opened, flicked from one side of the room to the other. Hulk took a great, gasping breath, then blew it out in a rush that almost knocked Tony over. “ **HULK COLD!** ” A large hand reached out, grabbed hold of Tony, suit and all, and snuggled him under Hulk’s arm like a kid with a teddy bear. “ **HULK SLEEP NOW!** ”

“You’re alive,” Tony whispered. “Oh sweet void, you’re _alive_.” He patted at Hulk’s chest, not quite able to believe that it was rising and falling with each breath. “ _How?_ ”

The body shifted, crackled, _changed_ , until Tony was practically laying in Bruce’s embrace, on the floor in the engineering room. His eyes stayed green until the very end, then darkened to Bruce’s normal brown. “Ow,” he complained. “Your… suit. Thingie? It’s got my hair.” He tried to tip his head to one side where, sure enough, a few of Bruce’s curls were trapped in the finger joints.

Tony shed the gauntlet and carefully freed Bruce’s hair. “Not that I’m not enormously grateful,” Tony said, “but how are you even alive?”

“Uh, not sure?” Bruce rubbed at the back of his head, then shivered. “I… back when this first happened, I didn’t have any luck fixing the whole being-alive-problem. Tried to end it all, once. Shot myself in the mouth, tried to scramble my brains? The Other Guy spit out the projectile. Hadn’t gotten around to trying to space myself, was going to give that a go when I found Steve.” His face softened a little. “Haven’t wanted to, since then.”

“Zero of ten stars, do not recommend,” Tony told him. “And it looks like the Hulk can hold his breath and survive vacuum, so... Yeah. Maybe consider being alive as something slightly less of a problem.” He pulled Bruce into a hug. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I’d say anytime, but really, this kinda sucked,” Bruce said. He shivered again and stood up, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet to keep as much of his skin out of contact with the metal floor. “Can I get a blanket, maybe?”

Whatever Bruce wanted was immediately sidelined as the engineering room’s hatch slammed open and Bucky practically ran into the room, knocked Tony into the wall with the force of his embrace. “Oh, Tony, oh frell, _Tony_!” He was kissing every bit of Tony’s skin he could reach; forehead, nose, cheeks, one eyelid, chin, before finally closing his mouth over Tony’s lips.

Tony let the kiss carry him away. For a moment, he hadn’t been kidnapped and terrified of losing everything he loved, he hadn’t watched his lover be changed into a monster, he hadn’t nearly lost a dear friend... He was just Tony, kissing Bucky, tasting every bit of his husband-to-be that he could. “Oh baby,” he sighed, “honey, I was so worried for you.”

Over Bucky’s shoulder, Bruce heaved a great sigh. “I’ll… um… just go find my own blanket, then,” he said.

“You do that,” Bucky said, not looking away from Tony, holding Tony’s face cupped between his hands like he was protecting something precious. “I almost killed you.” Bucky whispered, horrified and full of remorse. “I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you,” Tony said. “It was _them_. And Loki... seems to think they can do something about it.”

Bucky pressed his face against Tony’s throat, hiding. “Dunno about that, but… baby, I’m sorry.” For a long moment, they just stood there, holding onto the other, holding onto that person who was so frelling important. “Come on, let’s get you up t’ medical, check you over, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tony told him, though he knew Bucky was going to insist anyway. “Does Asgardian medical tech even work on our frail midgardian bodies?” Which reminded him, and he sobered. “How’s Thor?”

Bucky blanched. “I’m told ‘resting comfortably’ but ain’t nothin’ looks comfortable about that. Steve was wakin’ up when I came down here, but… gorramit, I nearly killed everyone, Tony. I… I ain’t worth any of this. I’m…” He stared at Tony, anguish etched on every feature.

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and pulled him close. “You’re worth _everything_ ,” he said fiercely. “Obie’s the one who almost killed us all. You’re as much a victim as the rest of us. And I’m going to marry you as soon as we get back to Asgard, and we’ll make sure this can’t happen anymore. To you, or to anyone else.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, but the way he avoiding Tony’s gaze was worrisome. Guilt, depression, remorse, it curved his spine and slumped his shoulders, and if he couldn’t let go of Tony’s hand, Tony wasn’t sure it was enough to hold him. There was a space between them, light years inside inches, and Tony wasn’t sure how to cross it. “C’mon.”

Tony followed Bucky back into the interior of the little ship, and to the medical pod, where Bruce had the heat going full blast.

“Hey doc,” Tony said. “We’re here for one ‘oh thank the void you’re alive you idiot’ checkup.”

Steve, holding something against his forehead, rolled his eyes. “Thank the void you’re alive, you idiot,” he said. “I really did not want t’ deal with the political fallout of any of this dren.” He glanced from Tony to Bucky. “Either of you. Stop looking like you’re planning on spacing your ass for the good of humanity. Loki assured me he can fix this. And by assured, I meant, ranted a bit about none of us thinking to tell the Asgardians about it. They have a magic stick for everything, apparently.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about Asgardian magic sticks after their meditation ball nearly broke my brain,” Tony complained, sitting on the exam table so Bruce could poke at him. He kept hold of Bucky’s hand, though.

“You need food and sleep, in that order,” Bruce told him. “You put quite a strain on your system. Go. Eat. Sleep. That’s an order. Also, Tony--” Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. You saved my life. Anyone else would have left a spaced body… out there. I might be able to survive the vacuum of space, but that’s… not exactly living.” He shuddered delicately.

Tony patted Bruce’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to leave you,” he assured Bruce. “Not any of you, not while I had any say in the matter.”

He slid off the table. “Come on, gorgeous. I’m dying to find out what kind of food they keep on Asgardian ships.”

***

Astonishing, how easy it was to avoid someone, even on a ship as small as _Sleipnir_. Not quite a two-man craft, Loki’s ship was built for speed, not long-term comfort.

However, the entire point of rescuing Tony -- and not only because he was Tony, and that those aboard were his friends -- was to keep the treaties intact. Returning to Asgard with Thor as badly wounded as he had been, the weapon that had brought him down being easily proven as Bucky’s, well, that would probably void all treaties right there, and they’d all be lucky to live through it.

So, despite the cramped quarters, they were hanging in real space while Thor healed, just tucked into the shadow of a moon on some dead and forgotten planet far from any shipping lanes, or common traffic.

Bucky, after the first night, and reassuring himself that Tony was okay, had discovered the even tinier escape craft, barely the size of a sled, where he could tuck himself in and remain alone. He didn’t know how to face anyone, and the concern that was evident in both Tony and Steve’s eyes made his skin itch so badly he wanted to peel it off.

It didn’t matter what they said, Bucky knew the truth. He was a _monster_.

The worst kind, the sort of monster that didn’t even look like one. He couldn’t control himself; he’d heard his words, and even with Steve begging him to stop, he… just… couldn’t.

He’d tried to put it aside, and at first, it hadn’t been that hard. He’d slept that first night in Tony’s arms, relieved, overjoyed.

The second night, dreams came for him.

He started worrying that he’d hear the words in his sleep, remember them, and that the monster inside of him would respond. Tony would never even have time to scream, if that happened.

Bucky couldn’t risk it. At the very least, he could keep away from people. Until they returned to Asgard, and then he was going to have to figure out what to do.

“Is it something inherent in Midgardians?” Loki asked, suddenly appearing at the opening of Bucky’s hiding hole. “Something that makes you prefer suffering to receiving help?”

The problem with Bucky’s hiding spot was that there was nowhere to go, once discovered. “Jus’ don’t wanna hurt anyone else, like I hurt your brother,” he admitted, curling up on the sled’s pilot couch and staring at his knees. Bucky could never quite figure out if Loki disliked his brother, or loved his brother more than anything else in the universe. They had a strange, bickering, contentious relationship, but Bucky had also seen the way Loki looked at Thor, sleeping in the medical unit as his body was repaired, cell by cell.

“Certainly,” Loki agreed. “And so instead you hurt your friends and your lover. And all while the solution is under your nose.”

Bucky made a scoffing noise in his throat. Loki sounded like an uptight, more formal version of his mother, dead for at least the last twenty years or more and Bucky hadn’t seen her for close to half a century. Still, the _you-are-an-idiot_ tone was pretty clear. “What?”

Loki held out one hand. Nestled in it was the meditation sphere. “Did you think it was merely a pretty bauble? It alters memories, Barnes. It makes them stronger, or weaker, or lets you see things you might have missed, before. If you are willing to endure the discomfort, it can erode the command codes they gave you, until they are no more than a shiver of the spine.”

Pain had rarely been a concern, Bucky thought. The Asset had been expected to endure, with as little complaint as possible. “How much pain?” Not because he was frightened, although he was, but his instincts were too highly trained. Too much pain, and he could lose control in another manner entirely.

Loki looked offended. “No physical pain,” he said. “I doubt the memories will be pleasant, but they cannot hurt in that way, more than any memory can.”

Sometimes, Bucky thought, memories were the worst possible pain.

Despite that, he managed to meet Loki’s gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Loki passed the sphere to Bucky. “For simple meditation, you held it like so,” Loki said, demonstrating. “For an alteration, you must place your hands thusly.” Instead of cupping his hands under his chin, Loki shifted them so one was over the other, an imaginary sphere held between them. “And you must focus on what it is you wish to change.” His eyes were glittering green. “Can you achieve such focus, Barnes?”

Bucky didn’t know, although he’d had years in cryo where he had nothing but a few, fading memories and endless nights, with no way to keep track of time, to contemplate them. “Guess we’ll find out,” he said. The sphere was still entirely ordinary-looking. Round and smooth and slightly warmer than room temperature. “Not here. Don’t… if things go really frellin’ wrong, I don’t want to bust up your only escape.”

Or, for that matter, find himself at the end of Loki’s staff again. That had been an even shorter leash than Hydra’s.

“You may use my chambers, if you like,” Loki said. “I doubt I’ll have need of them for some time.”

Bucky nodded. “I… thank you,” he said. “Kills me, jus’ about, to say thank you for the other thing. That... was terrifying and horrible. But you kept me from killing Tony, and I can’t be more grateful.” He brushed his lips over Loki’s cheek.

Loki smiled, a little sadly. “I wouldn’t have done it were the situation less dire,” he said. “I much prefer to enthrall with my charm. But in the moment, it was the best I could do for you.”

There was a shiver of pain there, that Loki could regret what had been done, as much as Bucky hated what had been done to him. He gave the Asgardian a sympathetic smile and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re very charming,” he told Loki with all seriousness. And before he could lose his nerve, he slid out of the sled, and headed down the corridor to Loki’s room.

He’d wanted to ignore the decor, knowing Loki was a hedonist of galactic proportions, but, it was difficult. The room was set up like Loki expected to be hosting an orgy at any moment. The bed was enormous, round, and could easily hold a half-dozen participants. There were devices for which Bucky had no names, as well as more easily recognizable forms of sensual entertainment.

“Frell me dead,” Bucky whispered, staring around.

He blinked a few times, found a relatively safe place on the floor to sit where he wasn’t looking at the bed, or the mirrors, or the padded leather bench, or the crystal display cases full of-- Right. Not looking.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

Cupped the sphere between his hands, the way Loki had demonstrated.

For a long, long moment, nothing happened. Bucky’s mind remained stubbornly blank, except for the curious part that kept wanting to examine the orgy room’s treasures.

_Longing_ , he thought, pushing backward in time.

_He was strapped down, leather and steel bands holding him in place as the serum burned through his veins. He’d already gotten one dose, the good stuff, Rebirth. This was… this was something else entirely._

_What are you doing to me? he demanded. The arm, that silvery, horrible thing, reflected the dim lighting. He didn’t know how he was moving it, but he was, and it was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t feel it, couldn't sense it the way he knew his own limbs. There was no kinesthetic feedback, he couldn’t tell exactly where the fingers ended and even in the few precious inches of movement he had, he’d bumped them against the side of the bed, against his hip, against the palm, accidentally._

_It is an experi_ ment, Sergeant Barnes,” and the voice went from being a memory to being as real as it had been the first time. “We do not know what it will do to you.”

“Congratulations,” another person spoke and Bucky could not bring himself to stop staring at Zola to see. Zola with his thin, amphibian lips and his bulging eyes and his skin that rubbed together with a dry, raspy sound that made Bucky think of a nest of vipers. “You will be the new fist of Hydra.”

Zola lowered the needle and injected fire into Bucky’s veins.

He was screaming.

He was screaming and he couldn’t stop.

He was screaming and it wouldn’t stop hurting, no matter what he did. He struggled, he fought, he surrendered.

By the third day, he would have done anything, promised anything, to make it stop.

He couldn’t even die. His body forced his heart to keep pumping, his lungs to keep breathing. There was nothing but pain.

Except _inside_ the pain, there were words.

_Concentrate on what it is you want to change._

_I don’t know._

Inside the pain, there were words. They spoke to him, repeated over and over again, sending him into that moment of surrender, where the agony was too great, where his mind snapped and bent, where he knew the speaking of the words were either obedience, or they were a return to this moment, this one, where everything was fire and torture.

He was both inside himself, suffering, wracked with pain, and he was outside himself, observing.

Zola couldn’t see him. Pierce couldn’t see him. They only saw their subject, strapped down and screaming until his throat ruptured, screaming until his lungs were bleeding.

Except… he could see himself. Not just on the outside, but the one who was in pain.

“Shhh,” he told himself. “I’m here.”

Bucky stared up at himself, locked gazes with the past self. “Don’t listen, just listen to me. You can’t hear them, can’t hear the words. They don’t mean anything. Not anymore. Never again.”

“They’ll kill me,” the past self told him. “If I don’t obey, I won’t… become you.”

Bucky shrugged. “It doesn’t work that way. Nothing that happens to you now changes who I am. But what happens to you can change who I will be.”

Bucky glared at himself. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He reached down and unlatched the straps, knowing that had never happened to him. “Come on, let me take you out of here. You don’t have to stay here. Nothing happens here that you ever need to remember again.”

Both of himselves were confused, it was practically palpable in the air, but the Bucky on the table got up, reached for him with that first artificial arm, and Bucky gripped it with the one Tony had made for him. “Come on,” he repeated. “Let me show you what’s waiting for you, on the other side of a lot of years and death and blood.”

“Is it worth it?”

Bucky opened a door that didn’t exist and pulled himself through.

_Tony…_

“I think so.”

***

Tony’s reassurances had done nothing to help Bucky. No matter how Tony said it, Bucky insisted on believing that there was a monster within him, something unspeakable and untouchable and, fundamentally, unlovable.

Much as it galled, Tony had let Bucky slink off to lick his wounds in private. Maybe he just needed time.

He distracted himself by playing in the medical unit with Bruce. He wasn’t dumb enough to try to sync with the Asgardian tech again -- certainly not with so _much_ of it surrounding him -- but just _looking_ at it was fascinating enough. They were marveling over a handheld device that encouraged the rapid regrowth of cells (and debating creating minor wounds to test it on, after they’d worked their way through all of Steve’s) when the sound of a scream ripped the air.

Tony was on his feet before he even fully registered the sound. “What the frell?”

A second scream echoed, and Tony’s blood ran cold. “That’s Bucky!” And it wasn’t a short, harsh scream of simple frustration, but a desperate, hopeless sound of agony and despair. He ran, chasing the sound, Steve at his heels.

The sound led them to -- Loki’s quarters, which had Loki himself stationed in front of the hatch, his arms folded across his chest and his feet planted.

“Now is not the time for interruptions,” Loki said. “It is not, perhaps, the path I would have taken, but we must let him arrive at his destination. Or not. Even now, he might fail.”

“What the dren are you doing to him?” Tony demanded. He tried to push past Loki, but the slender Asgardian was stronger than he looked.

“Let us through,” Steve growled, fists clenching.

“Certainly,” Loki said, deceptively calm. “If you wish to destroy any hope of your friend, your lover, conquering the hold that Hydra has on his mind. Let you in, let you wake him from his memories and seal them so tight that we might never get their fingers out of his brain.”

“You’re saying we just have to let him _suffer_ like that?” Tony spat. He shoved at Loki, hard. “Why? Why would you... Why couldn’t we at least be with him?”

“All the pain he is in, at this moment, truly, exists only in his memories,” Loki said. There was something sad, and vaguely nostalgic in the expression on Loki’s face. “When I did this, many many years ago, I did not relive my own torture, did not choose to see my mind broken and my spirit destroyed. I only know these things happened, as my brother tells me that they did, and that they must have. Instead, I imagined a world in which it had never happened at all. That Thor caught me, instead of letting me fall off the bridge, letting me fall into Thanos’s hands. Perhaps Barnes could not believe in a savior, and that he must, somehow, break their hold on him while it occurs.”

“I saved him once,” Steve said. “It should’ve been enough.”

“It’s been awfully quiet in there for a while,” Tony realized. “Loki... At least let us make sure he’s okay!”

“You must not wake him,” Loki cautioned. “No matter what you see, no matter what he says. If he stirs from this dream, he will only solidify their hold. When his eyes open of their own accord, then, and only then, can you touch him. Promise me.”

“I...” Tony gritted his teeth, and exchanged a look with Steve. “All right. I promise. Just... let us see him.”

Loki stood aside, waved one hand in front of the door, and let them in.  Bucky was kneeling on the floor, facing the wall. His entire body was shaking from unimaginable pain, or grief, or rage. His artificial arm was outstretched, like he was reaching for something just beyond his grasp.

“You can’t hear them,” Bucky said. “Can’t hear the words. They don’t mean anything. Not anymore. Never again.”

Tony bit his lip so hard it felt like he drew blood. “That’s right, honey,” he whispered. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

A hand on his shoulder, and it was Steve, his eyes troubled. “You can do this, Buck,” he breathed. “Come on.”

Bucky spoke again, sounding younger, terrified, his voice breaking into a million, sharp-edged pieces. “They’ll kill me, they’ll kill me if I don’t-- _I won’t become you_.”

Bucky soothed himself, talking nonsense, and then he stood, his eyes still closed, face streaked with tears, hair sweaty and clinging to his skin. “Let me show you what’s waiting for you, on the other side of a lot of years and death and blood.”

“ _Is it worth it?”_

Bucky turned, his arm curved around a person who wasn’t there. Reached out like he was opening a door. His eyelids fluttered, then opened.  

“I think so.” And he smiled at Tony like the sun coming up.

“Hey, babe,” Tony said, softly, in case he was still dreaming. “How you feeling?” He could feel Steve at his back, breath practically held.

“I… uh,” Bucky said, turning, as if to say something to a companion that had vanished like the mist. “Oh. Yeah, I guess not.” He shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I guess I can’t really bring myself through, can I? But there you are, and _frell_ , if you’re not th’ most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Tony’s heart was in his throat. He reached out for Bucky with one hand, caught Bucky’s hand and used it to pull himself in closer. “Scared me,” he admitted. “Wanted to make sure you were okay. Steve and I practically had to wrestle Loki.”

Bucky actually laughed at that, free and joyous and lovely, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” He let himself be drawn in to Tony’s embrace, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean t’ worry you.”

“Well, we’re in here, aren’t we?” Tony said, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders. He tucked his face against Bucky’s neck for a long moment, letting himself breathe in Bucky’s scent, trying to shake off the adrenaline that had spiked at the sound of those screams. “Long as you’re okay now.”

“I… think so? Maybe. I went back, to when they were putting the words in me, the very first time--” his voice was shaking with remembered pain “--and I took myself out. I remember, though, everything, until… I saw myself? And then, cryo, for the first time. There’s a big, blank spot, and I can sort of feel around the edges of it. But… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened anymore.”

“Nothing that you want to remember, I’d bet,” Steve said, coming closer to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Sounds like a good thing t’me.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

There was something utterly satisfying about watching Shield agents dragging Sunset Bain and Ty Stone off the derelict craft. By the time they’d been able to get out to that ship, repair it enough to tow it back, and to bring the two alleged villains to a holding cell, several days had passed. There’d been enough oxygen and water that they hadn’t been in danger of dying, but both of them were underfed and filthy by the time they were removed from the vessel and headed to jail.

“ _Alleged_ , my ass,” Bucky muttered. It hadn’t been enough for him to watch things from the holo, he wanted to be there while the two of them did their perp walk, hands cuffed at the small of their backs, heads down, surrounded by lawyers and legal aids, badgered by news informers, mocked by the crowds. If Bucky had thought he could have gotten away with throwing a rotten vegetable at them, he might have done it.

“And a lovely ass it is, too,” Tony agreed, tapping at his portable. “Mm, Bain’s stock is already dropping everywhere but in the Core. I’m _so_ glad I won’t have to go to Pepper’s ‘How Do We Leverage This’ meeting. It’s likely to run at least a full day.”

“I don’t know why we even gotta go through the mockery of a trial,” Bucky said. “We already know they’re guilty, what can they possibly say that’ll excuse it?” He ignored that niggling little feeling that said maybe _he_ should be the one on trial. For a great many things.

That was one of the sticking points, in the Galactic Council. Enhancile rights were all good and well, but someone had to be held responsible for all the deaths. Between Hydra, and AIM, and even SHIELD wasn’t immune to employing enhanciles to keep their hands clean.

And of course, Bucky was going to be the damn poster boy for Not Responsible For His Actions.

_Of course._

There wasn’t a trial scheduled. Not yet. But somewhere the gritty details had gotten loose, and it was being played out in the court of public opinion.

“I’m interested in the trial,” Tony said. “If only because there’s a chance they might know who, specifically, Stane was dealing with in Hydra. And if there’s anything I know about Sunset and Ty, it’s that they will have absolutely no qualms about selling off every bit of what they know in order to keep their sentences light.” He tapped on his portable a little more, then put it away, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist as he watched Bain and Stone be herded into a secure vehicle.

Bucky grumbled. Tony was safe and whole again, and back where he belonged, but at the same time… “You could have died,” he pointed out. “No information is worth not just lockin’ them up and throwin’ away the frelling key.”

“It is if I find out that someone besides Stane wants me dead,” Tony pointed out. He planted a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. Nothing we can do, now that we’ve given our testimony. All we can do is sit back and wait for the Council vote.”

The worst, the very worst thing… all they could do was wait. Tony was right, they had to wait for the vote. Which was super frustrating. Their fate in the hands of uncaring politicians.

At least Sakaar had thrown in with them, after the Asgardian princes had participated in the rescue mission to get Tony back.

But everything had been put on hold

Which meant they still weren’t married, either.

And it was starting to get on Bucky’s nerves. It wasn’t -- _he knew it wasn’t_ \-- Tony’s fault that he’d gotten kidnapped right before the wedding, or that the mission to recover him had taken so long that all the suppliers had taken their wares and gone off to sulk about it, or that the kind of ceremony they’d had planned took some time to lay out.

Then this whole trial farce had started up.

He eyed Tony sidelong, not sure if he should say anything about it at all, or if Tony would just brush him off.

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Tony said. “What’s eating at you?” He turned to look at Bucky directly, ignoring everyone around them, giving Bucky the full weight of his attention.

“You think it’s necessary?” Bucky wondered, not quite meeting Tony’s gaze, staring instead up at the sky and the puffs of vapor that raced across it, driven by the breeze.

“I think,” Tony said carefully, “that we’re still pawns on this chessboard, and our opinions aren’t really going to matter all that much. So I’m digging out what silver linings I can.” He smiled wryly. “I really just want the whole mess to be over, so I can marry you and take you home.”

Bucky tried to smile, but it didn’t seem to want to stick. “You know, the legal part of this dren was all done, before you disappeared in the first place. Weddin’ license from Asgard’s recognized the whole galaxy wide, except for a few backwater, theologically ruled places that don’t see anyone else’s authority, ‘cept their own.” He was leading around the edge. Tired of everything they did being so gorram _public_. He couldn’t hardly walk down the street with Steve, or kiss Tony goodnight, without someone commenting on it. The last time Tony spent an evening in the lab with Bruce, there was all sorts of idle speculation.

He knew, dren it all, that Tony wasn’t stepping out on him, but the way people wondered, out loud, it just… got to him. Bucky knew he shouldn’t let it, but he was just not meant for the limelight, this way.

Tony, well, Tony had grown up a mercantile prince, so the gossip was something he’d known his whole life.

“That’s true,” Tony said thoughtfully. “Are you suggesting we say to frell with the ceremony and elope? Run away on a pirate ship to live a life of adventure?”

Bucky brushed a few strands of hair off Tony’s perfect face. “S’where I met you,” he confessed, “so I might have a little soft spot in my heart for a pirate ship.”

Tony looked around at the crowd, slowly dispersing now that the villains had been taken away. “Bruce says Steve’s getting restless, lingering in port for so long,” he observed.

“Captains can perform weddings, on their boats,” Bucky suggested, idly. Just a fact. Really.

“I think Pepper’s missed having a pirate ship at her disposal,” Tony said. “And now that Steve knows all my good leads came from her, he might be less grumpy about it.”

“Want to go for a walk?” Bucky asked. “We could just, you know, meet up with some old friends, take a stroll down by the shipyards. See the sunset.”

“Asgard _does_ have particularly nice sunsets,” Tony agreed. “And who doesn’t like meeting up with friends? Seeing the sights. The port has some fascinating architecture, you know.”

Bucky very carefully didn’t look around, he certainly didn’t walk like he expected to be arrested at any moment. He linked hands with Tony. “You know, I remember your Aunt Peggy might want to hear that you’re getting married. Maybe we should tell her. In person.”

“I didn’t get to spend _nearly_ enough time with Aunt Peggy the last time we saw her,” Tony said. “We should plan an extended stay.”

Bucky glanced up, caught just the tiniest flutter of movement. Nat, giving him the all-clear from the rooftops. Even in Asgard, people didn’t look up. It was good to know, superior as Thor and Loki acted, that they were just as ground-bound and idiotic as everyone else.

“We should,” Bucky said. He pulled Tony in closer and nuzzled at his ear. Loved the way the man smelled, his hair, his skin, the faint tang of metal.

They were most of the way to the port when Clint strolled up next to them. “Fancy meeting you two, here,” he said. With a swing of his arm, he practically threw a rucksack at Tony. “And I ain’t carrying your clothes one inch further.”

Tony caught the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to be on your way to the port, by any chance?” He cast Bucky a sidelong look.

Bucky hummed innocently while Clint went on for a bit about needing to get in the chair in order to maintain his pilot’s rating. “All this land-based work, it’s dren on the flight time needed for my license.”

“I can imagine,” Tony said. “You’re not planning to go up without a mechanic on board, are you? That’s dangerous, you know.”

“Well, if you’re gonna hang out for a while, I wouldn’t say no,” Clint said.

Nat came up along the other side, a smear of dirt on her hand and a matching one on her chin. “We might want to step it up a bit.” She blotted her lipstick on a handkerchief, folded it in half and threw it away. “I had to stop a very determined holographer from trying to get a personal interview and I didn’t have time to stash him out of the way.”

“Aw, Nat, no,” Clint said. “Don’t tell me--”

“I didn’t kill him,” Nat said, one eyebrow going up. “I used the good night kiss. Which reminds me, someone better have some vodka for me.”

Bucky pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket. “I told you I’d get some.”

Nat took a long swig, then linked her arm with Bucky’s. “I knew I liked you.”

“Hey now,” Tony protested, “don’t try to make off with my husband.”

Nat and Clint escorted them onto the shipyards and up the ramp of the Avenger. “Captain.”

Steve gave both Bucky and Tony a stern look as he smacked the ramp’s closure. “You’re late.”

“Says the absolute _poster boy_ for waiting too long,” Bucky retorted.

Steve pointed a finger at Bucky. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Bucky smacked Steve’s scolding finger and then folded his best friend into a hug. “Thanks for this.”

“End of the line, pal,” Steve said. “Hey, JARVIS, you settling in yet?”

“I am indeed, Captain. Welcome aboard, sir.”

“You stole my AI?” Tony protested. “Why would you do that? That’s... that’s totally unacceptable. JARVIS, you traitor, why are you cooperating with these pirates?”

“You’ll pardon me for saying so, sir, but it seemed the best method to keep an eye on you,” JARVIS reported, apparently unfazed.

“Keep an eye on me? I’m beginning to think you all need someone to keep an eye on _you_.” Tony was trying to sound offended and failing miserably, his hand squeezed tight on Bucky’s and his lips twitching upward.

“You’re probably right,” and Bruce came up behind them from the medbays. “Thanks for volunteering.”

“If we’re all settled on who, exactly, we’re blaming for all this dren, I’m getting us airborne,” Clint said, voice cracking over the inship. “Hold onto your butts. I’m not exactly taking the recommended exit trajectory.”

“If you’d like to inspect your crew quarters, Mr. Stark,” Steve said, eyes dancing with glee, “we made some upgrades while we didn’t have anything better to do. Stow your gear, and let me know what you think.”

Tony eyed Steve, then turned to Bucky. “What do you say? Want to help me inspect the quarters?”

“Sounds good to me, doll,” Bucky said. He knew the way. Every hall and hold on the Avenger was as familiar to him as the old house his parents had rented, back on Brooklyn. These walls were more home to him than anyplace else had ever been. Mostly because he had Tony at his side, which would have made anyplace a home, where his heart was.

But the _Avenger_ was special. A home he could love, as well as a place to store his gear. Family. Friends. Love. “Oh, you forgot somethin’, Stevie.”

“Right,” Steve drawled. “Do you?”

“You know I do,” Bucky said, squeezing Tony’s hand.

“Tony, do you?”

Tony looked at Bucky. “Always.”

“Great. You’re married. Kiss. An’ then go to your room. I don’t want to see, smell, or hear you for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tony leaned up to kiss Bucky, and murmured against his mouth, “I’m sure we’ll find some way to pass the time.”

Bucky couldn’t help grinning, utterly ruining the kiss, but that was okay. He could take all the time he wanted to get that part right. “We c’n do somethin’ big and fancy later, if you want,” he said, “but all I ever wanted was for you to be mine.”

Without looking away from Tony’s face, he pulled his husband gently back toward the engineering quarters.

The bed was the biggest, most obvious change; before, Tony’s bunk had been barely wide enough for one person. Now, it might fit three, if they were really good friends. There was a privacy curtain installed over it, too. That was a nice touch.

The little corner where Tony kept an old reconstituter, for days he couldn’t be bothered to walk as far as the mess, had acquired a coffee maker, as well. Tony beelined straight for it. The drawer under the corner was half-stocked with mealpacks, and half with coffee. Asgardian coffee wasn’t _quite_ as good as true Earth blend, but it was worlds and away better than usual ship fare. Tony triumphantly dropped a pod into the coffee maker. “We’re going to be needing that,” he said, leering.

From the opposite corner of the room came a soft, questioning whir.

Tony spun around, eyes going wide. “No,” he breathed. “Oh, no frelling way.” He crossed the room to run his hands down DUM-E’s struts. “How the frell...” He looked at Bucky. “You did this?”

Bucky bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Steve an’ the others helped. Hulk carried DUM-E down here, which was all kinds of distracting for the local constabulary.” He hoped that Tony liked it, that Tony _wanted_ what he wanted. “You were gettin’ all wrapped up in the politics, baby, but like you said, we ain’t nothing but frelling pawns. And I thought, well, what’s the use of free will if we don’t exercise it?” Tony had practically thrown his company at Pepper Potts the instant the ink was dry on the transfer from Stane’s estate back to Tony’s own, which had to mean _something_ , right?

“You...” Tony pulled Bucky into an embrace that was a little tighter and more desperate than the smooth tone of Tony’s voice suggested. “You’re _amazing_ , you know that? You just... And the...” He pointed at DUM-E. “It remains to be seen whether this was a mistake, though. What are you even going to do here, hm? No, don’t give me that look, I know you.” His tone was hopelessly fond. “Go charge. It’s grownup time.” He turned back to Bucky, cupping Bucky’s face in his hands. “Void, I love you.”

“Love you, too, honey,” Bucky told him. “So, so much.” He stroked Tony’s hand where it rested against his cheek. “Husband.”

“Husband,” Tony echoed. “Feel like taking that new bunk for a test spin?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Bucky said. He leaned in, nuzzling at Tony’s mouth, a little kitten kiss, that suddenly turned heated and he was backing Tony across the room toward the bed.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut-averse readers -- This chapter is pretty much all smuts!

Tony let Bucky back him up until his knees bumped into the edge of the bed, and then he fell back onto it, pulling Bucky down to land on top of him. “Hello, husband.” He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and lifted his head for more of those sweet, hot kisses.

“All I ever wanted, right here,” Bucky murmured. He took little samples of Tony’s mouth, a flick of tongue and then drawing back to stare, wordless and wondering, into Tony’s eyes. He slid his hand over Tony’s cheek, cupped his jaw. Used his thumb to keep Tony’s mouth in place as he continued to torment with those licks and nips, almost, but not quite, tentative.

Tony enjoyed that, trying to tempt Bucky to deepen the kiss, trying to catch Bucky’s tongue, his whole body lighting up with each touch. He rolled his body up against Bucky’s, dragged his hands down Bucky’s back and tugged at Bucky’s shirt until his fingertips encountered skin. He traced the waist of Bucky’s pants with his fingertips until Bucky shuddered against him and arched into the touch.

Bucky made a hungry growl against Tony’s throat, the heat of his breath spilling over Tony’s skin. He pressed his mouth against the pulse point, then nibbled his way lower, until he was worrying at the join between Tony’s neck and shoulder. “Tony, my husband, _my Tony_ ,” he chanted, then tugged at the collar of Tony’s shirt until he was pulling it over Tony’s head. “Frell me, you’re gorgeous.”

Tony sat up enough to let the shirt come off, then pulled Bucky’s shirt up and off, as well. “Yours,” he promised. “All yours.” He licked a stripe down Bucky’s neck, then nipped his way back up to drag his teeth over Bucky’s earlobe. “Love you,” he breathed, as much to tease Bucky with the warm puff of air as because it was true.

Tony’s head was pushed back, down to the mattress, as Bucky practically devoured him, mouth crushing down on his, tongue sliding in and ravaging him. The tip of Bucky’s tongue skated along his teeth, traced the line of his lower lip, heated, molten, until Tony was gasping against the kiss. Bucky’s arms slid under him, gathering him close, closer, until nothing remained between them but heat. By the time he pulled back, they were both heaving for breath. “Off, off,” Bucky muttered, fingers searching for, and finding, the fasteners on Tony’s pants, and practically ripping them in his haste.

Once he finished shucking Tony like an oyster, Bucky slid his own clothes off and discarded them carelessly on the floor before returning to strop his entire body against Tony’s, making a soft sound of utter relish at the skin-to-skin contact.

Tony groaned with relief, even knowing he would be desperate for more very soon. In the moment, the warm slide of Bucky’s skin against his was enough. He rolled his body up into Bucky’s, seeking more contact, and more, his hands sliding over Bucky’s back and ass and hips. “Frell, I want you,” he gasped. “Want all of you, everything.”

“You have me,” Bucky told him, seriously. As if Tony didn’t know it; or maybe if Bucky didn’t know it. Needed to hear the words. “All of me. Forever.” He rolled them over until Tony was sprawled across his chest, looking up at Tony like he was the sun coming up. His hands slid up Tony’s thighs, over his hips, fingertips tracing over his chest until he put one palm against the arc-reactor. “It always hums,” he murmured. “Like it’s singing inside your chest.”

“Wait’ll the BEHS Drive kicks in,” Tony said. “Then it dances, too.” He pressed Bucky’s hand against his chest, against the arc reactor, marveling at how natural it felt, how right. “Keeps my heart going for you,” he promised. He looked down at Bucky for a long moment, brushed his knuckles gently across Bucky’s cheek. Marveling. Then he slid down, sucking and kissing and licking down Bucky’s chest, tonguing at the dip of Bucky’s collarbone until Bucky was writhing, and then working his way further downward to catch a nipple between his lips.

Bucky arched off the bunk, pressing up into that touch, his spine a lovely curve, shoulders thrown back. Every muscle and line glittered in the light, showing him off, a perfect specimen. Even his scars were lovely, silver against the gold of his skin. His artificial arm -- that Tony had made for him, marking him even more indelibly as Tony’s own -- whirred contentedly as the plates shifted to accommodate movement.

“Mm, you’re so sensitive,” Tony purred, tormenting that nub of flesh until it was hard and taut and Bucky was whining. He flicked at the other nipple with his thumb, teasing, then dragged his hand down Bucky’s stomach. “Could do this for hours,” he said, which was a flat lie; tempting as it was to make Bucky writhe, Tony’s own impatience was bound to overcome him before long. “Want to make you scream.”

Bucky chuckled, a dark, wicked sound that might have been more impressive if he hadn’t gasped at the end of it. “Oh, you make me scream, all right,” he said, hands going to Tony’s hair and carding through the dark curls. “Th’ way you touch me, honey, you’re so sweet.” He rocked up, his hips lifting to rub and rut against Tony’s stomach, leaving a smear of slick precome behind. “Need you.”

“You’ve got me, sweetheart,” Tony promised. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” He slid down further, mouthing over Bucky’s stomach, making the muscles jump with sensation and anticipation. Tony breathed warm over Bucky’s cock, but veered to the side to nose at the vee of Bucky’s hip, nipping and licking.

Bucky whined, soft and plaintive, not quite pushing at Tony’s head, but the way his fingers tightened in Tony’s hair suggested that he wanted to. “Come on, baby, please,” he begged. “Your wicked mouth…”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Tony said. He settled himself a little more between Bucky’s thighs. “I don’t know if you’re quite desperate enough yet.” He dragged his tongue up Bucky’s cock, just once, then switched back to sucking on Bucky’s hipbone, pulling up dark hickeys and soothing them with his tongue.

“Cruel,” Bucky accused him, enough fondness in his tone that it made Tony’s heart swell. “You’re jus’ bein’ mean, darlin-- oh, _frell_ , Tony!” His hands moved out of Tony’s hair to grab great handfuls of the blankets, tugging at them as if to hold himself down. He threw his head back, baring his throat, white teeth digging into his bottom lip as he struggled to contain wanton moans and throaty shouts.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Tony encouraged. He licked another stripe up Bucky’s cock, teasing at the head for a moment before looking up at Bucky. “Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful like this.” Another little lick, just enough to make Bucky twitch and shiver.

It didn’t take Tony long, those teasing touches combined with the occasional relenting stroke, and Bucky lost the ability to stay even partially quiet, swearing and gasping noisily, hands restlessly gripping at the blankets, at Tony’s hair, stroking down his neck and shoulders. Bucky’s knees came up and he crossed his ankles over Tony’s back, pulling him closer, getting as much contact as he could.

Tony wasn’t too concerned about the noise -- obviously the rest of the crew knew _exactly_ what they were doing -- but the engine room was sound shielded for most of the ship anyway. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t seem to know it, and whenever a singularly lewd sound escaped him, he blushed furiously, until his whole chest was covered in patches of rosy pink. “Oh, frell, you’re… baby, you… Tony, _please_!”

“That’s it,” Tony said, and swallowed Bucky’s cock, taking it as deep as he could. He hummed happily as Bucky let out a groan. He flicked his tongue against Bucky’s slit, making Bucky arch and whine, then went to work, pulling out all his best and favorite tricks.

“Love your mouth, baby,” Bucky gasped, “how you feel against me.” He rolled up again, barely stopping himself from fucking up into Tony’s mouth, gagging him, and then settling again. He sucked a huge breath, then deflated, hands relaxing as he gave himself over to Tony’s care. He tossed his head from side to side. Rubbed his calves along Tony’s sides, but other than that, he was motionless, breathing and watching Tony with slitted, intent eyes.

Tony hummed approval and sucked harder, moved faster. Tony cupped Bucky’s balls with one hand, then pressed at his perineum in gentle rhythm with his sucking. He’d forgotten to grab lube, but he teased at Bucky’s entrance anyway, gentle pressure, a light tug against the rim.

Bucky shuddered, his thighs falling open wider, to welcome Tony in. “Baby, I...oh, oh, dren, that’s…” Tony could hear the riotous sounds of his breathing, feel the way Bucky’s heart was racing. Every nerve in Tony’s body was attuned to Bucky’s reactions; each breathy sigh, each desperate noise, every carelessly desperate touch, until they were both lost in the roll and tumble of it, hands and mouths and skin and lips moving. Tony knew exactly how to touch, to stroke and please, like they shared some sort of mental wavelength.

“Need it, need you,” Bucky was saying, babbling nonsense and pleas, and, “an’thing you want, just _come on_.”

Tony knew when Bucky was balanced on the edge, too, from the way his breath stuttered and his muscles tensed. He held Bucky there for a long moment, relishing each shudder and plea, then held on to Bucky’s hips and pushed deeper, letting Bucky’s cock nudge down the back of his throat, swallowing reflexively around that thickness and suppressing the urge to cough.

There weren’t words to describe the noise Bucky made when he came; lewd and filthy and perfect and utterly, utterly unrestrained. He surged, rocked against Tony’s mouth, crying out with bliss, and subsided, twitching against aftershocks as Tony worked him through it, swallowing and licking until Bucky was batting at him half-heartedly, exhausted and limp with sudden relief.

“You’re so delightfully responsive,” Tony said, enjoying the way his voice rasped. “Frell, I love you.”

Bucky managed, after a little bit of useless wriggling, to prop himself up on his elbows. “Only for you,” he told Tony. “Can’t imagine anyone else-- not ever.” His mouth twisted into a lush smile. “You make me feel so good. Best you tell me how t’ make you feel the same, so I can hear you crying out.” He squirmed around a bit until he pulled Tony up further, kissing him with slow deliberation, licking the taste of himself out of Tony’s mouth eagerly.

Tony hummed into the kiss, opening to Bucky’s seeking tongue. He was too tightly wound to really relax into the luxury of it, but he appreciated it anyway, Bucky’s lush mouth and sweet taste. “I want to be in you,” he managed after a moment. “I want to feel you around me, want you to feel me filling you. Yeah?”

“Sounds perfect,” Bucky told him. He ran an exploratory hand down Tony’s belly, headed right for his cock. “Wanna feel this.” He stroked a few times, hand loose and easy, just enough friction for a wicked tease, sliding down, then feathered his fingertips up the shaft. The light, playful touch was enough to pin Tony in place, straining against those wicked fingers. By the time he pulled back, Tony was mewling with need, wound so tight it felt like he might snap. “Lemme get-- awww, baby, that sounds pretty.” He kissed the sounds from Tony’s mouth, then twisted to search in the bunk’s drawer for lube.

Tony was still panting when Bucky found it. “What you do to me,” he sighed. “Make me feel so good.” He reached for the lube and nudged Bucky to lie back. Coated his fingers and circled Bucky’s hole. “This is going to feel so frelling amazing, honey, you’re perfect.”

“I know,” Bucky said, softly. “You always make me feel good.” He gave Tony a lopsided smirk. “An’ I’m perfect.”

“Perfect for me,” Tony insisted. “No better husband could possibly exist.” He punctuated that by pressing into Bucky’s body, feeling the heat of it tight around his finger, watching the way Bucky’s eyelids fluttered. “Just relax, let me in.”

Bucky had a dopey, post-coital grin. He carded through Tony’s hair, thighs quivering with each twitch of Tony’s fingers. “Yeah, that’s… oh, that’s sweet, Tony, I…” He was pliant and easy under Tony’s hands, hips rocking, the muscle in his passage squeezing around Tony’s finger, then letting go as Tony moved on to a second finger, scissoring out, twisting his wrist.

Bucky was gorgeous like this, sweet and relaxed and happy. Tony was grateful, suddenly, that he’d agreed to run away. Bucky hadn’t smiled nearly so easily when they’d been on Asgard, in the public eye. He kissed Bucky as he added a third finger, tasting each little gasp as he curled his fingers to brush Bucky’s prostate. “Oh, honey,” he breathed. “Dren, I want you so much.”

Bucky kissed him, wet and sloppy and urgent. “I’m good, I’m ready, Tony. Want you in me, want to feel every inch of you.”

“Okay,” Tony said. He pulled his fingers free, added more lube and slicked himself up. “Okay, baby, I’ve got you.” He pushed in, just a little, and nearly came right away at that tight squeeze, that unbelievable heat. He shifted, propping himself up over Bucky, watching Bucky’s face as he sank in, letting Bucky’s body pull him in.

When he finally bottomed out, Tony thought there couldn’t be anything better. He wanted to just curl up and live there forever; he wanted to pound relentlessly into Bucky’s body until they were both sated and exhausted; he wanted, _needed_ to make this good, perfect, for Bucky. “Oh, frelling void,” he gasped, all words gone. “Dren, you feel good.”

“I got you,” Bucky said. He shifted, experimentally, moving his hips and Tony thought he was going to straight up die when Bucky squeezed around him, clenching with a groan. “That feels, that feels… oh, baby, that’s… right… move, please, I need y’to move.”

“I can do that,” Tony managed hoarsely. “I can...” He pulled out, a little, and then pushed back in with a groan. That was better than good, that was... that was _sublime_ , it was _perfection_. Tony did it again, pulling out further, driving back in with a little more speed. “Oh, frell.” He hooked Bucky’s leg over his shoulder and that angle made Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise. Tony grinned at him, and set up a rhythm, relentless and heavy, like the beating of his heart.

The sensation built quickly -- almost too quickly, pushing Tony to ever-greater heights of pleasure. He was babbling, whispering, not sure what he was saying but not particularly caring. His world had narrowed to the sensation of thrusting into Bucky, to the gorgeous sounds that slipped from Bucky’s throat, to the sight of Bucky’s eyes on his.

“Love you,” Tony groaned, and the simple, happy smile on Bucky’s face followed him into the electric white of his climax.

Bucky groaned, convulsed around him. Squeezed as Tony thrust in, one last time. “Love you,” he repeated, eyes rolling back as he moved with Tony, each motion mirrored and copied until it was nothing but reflections of pleasure.

Bucky clenched again, then relaxed as Tony collapsed onto him, resting Tony’s cheek against his chest, hands gentle on Tony’s hair, soothing strokes down his arms as the muscles shivered with fatigue. “So much, baby. Love you so much.” He kissed the top of Tony’s head, eyelids fluttering shut as he snuggled into the mattress.

Tony caught his breath enough to withdraw and re-settle more comfortably against Bucky’s side. “Just a quick nap,” he murmured. “Be nice to wake up with my husband.”

“Take your time,” Bucky said. “We got all the time in the universe. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 


End file.
